You Take the Reason Out of Me
by Minkwea5000
Summary: 30 years after Aizen and Hueco Mundo is defeated, a girl stumbles upon the Urahara Shoten after a tragic accident. The eccentric house now has another member to add to the gang as an illegal romance blossoms. Better Summery inside.
1. Savior

Better Summery: 30 years after the Hueco Mundo arc in the anime/manga (more the anime though), a tragic but odd girl finds herself amungst the cast of the Urahara Shoten. The eccentric gang take her in and an illegal romance slowly stirs. Little do they know that they are in for more then just a lazy teenager. Also, an insande captain finds himself too curious to stay away from an experiment. What will happen when Mayuri tries to ruin all that our herione has tried to accomplish?

Genre: At first its kind of Hurt/Comfort and goes to Romance. There are a lot of Family and Humor thrown in too. Eventually it becomes a Drama/Adventure. Just read and decide for yourself

Anything in _Italics_ is spoken in English

Alright this is my first fic. For it to survive you must comment or I won't post the rest of my chapters. I'm not near finishing this but hopefully your support will make me work faster. Hopefully after this epic piece is done I can become a One-shot master!!! *sings pokemon theme* WOAH SORRY! I like criticism as long as you give me a reason ^_^ If you just flame me I get mad .. ANYWAY Let the Warnings, pairings, and disclaimers commence!

Warnings: Coarse language, some gore-y-esqu images, implications of yaoi (I don't think I'll actually put a pairing though), a yuri or two pairing(s), adult content/situations, an eventual lemon, and Mayuri being a B-I-T-C-H. . . You'll see. ..

Pairings in this chapter definitely: None really

Future 0_o (Urahara/OC, Yoruichi/Soi Fon, Rukia/Ichigo, Chad/Orihime/Tatsuki, Jinta/Ururu, and Ishida/OC) others..........? (It's open to suggestions)

Disclaimer: Tite Kubo owns Bleach and its characters. Michaela is my OC. You take her, she gets Tessai to molest you.

PHEW: If you read all that I applaud you. ON WITH THE STORY.

Through the sheets of rain that poured into Karakura Town, the splashing of jagged running disrupted the sleeping town in the late afternoon where evening threatened to descend.

Micheala Greene, age fifteen, barely over five feet tall, despised this life.

Clutching her ribs she dizzily ran from the horrors of her home.

"_He did not mean for this to happen. . . he did not mean for this to happen._" She panted through sharp gasps. Some of her ribs were most likely broken but she didn't care. . . It was all going to be over soon. . .

She needed to make it to a desolate area. Nobody should look upon the pitiful creature she had become. Nobody should see her. Nobody should be near her. Certainly nobody should care for her.

Rain pelted onto the running girl making her bangs on the left side of her face paste to her skin, making it even harder to see or breath. When she rounded the corner she found herself in the Mitsumiya district. The outskirts of town at last.

She saw ahead a desolated small shop. She painfully gasped again. Behind that fence would have to do. Her zig-zag running motions decelerated to a hasty stagger.

Michaela reached down and fingered a sharp object in her pocket. The weight of the world only got heavier as she pulled out a switchblade from the depths of the pockets of her bright red Tripp pants.

"_He did not mean for this to happen_," she whimpered again. Each step seamed like a centuries time, never getting to her next foot fast enough. She had planned to make it actually behind the fence but she slipped forward into a puddle at the small spacing between fences, exposing her fallen form before the shop. The feel of the switchblade in between her ribs was breathtakingly painful but relieving at the same time. She read the large sign hoisted above the porch: Urahara Shouten. Thinking nothing of it she fluttered her beautiful eyes closed, accepting the pain of the switchblade digging into her ribs. So confused, alone, cold, hopeless, and helpless. The angel with broken wings had finally fallen. It wasn't as graceful as she had planned but it works. She felt her warm blood soak her as the rain beat her into the sidewalk. Blood mixed with rain and soon she could hardly tell the difference.

From either exhaustion, loss of blood, or lack of will to live she slipped into blackness . . . but the pain would not subside. . .

* * *

When she resumed consciousness, she recognized she was out of the cold and surrounded by warmth. Perhaps she was in heaven? No, the fire in her ribs was still present. She could sense the brightness of something on the other side of her eyelids. She also felt something large shifting above her. Hoping to find a gateway to heaven she instead found the sketchiest face glaring down at her. He was big, tan, and had a weird braided back short hairstyle. A strange Italian mustache graced his face and his rectangular glasses loomed over her face mere centimeters away. She screamed the first thing that came to mind,

"_FUCK! RAPE! AHHHHH!!!_" She slapped the strange man hard across the face. Her rather high shrill unnerved the creeper. She looked down in between her and the strange man's form to see herself topless and less then modestly wrapped. The sight of her mid-drift that normally remained unexposed, was gloating for her average body from the lack of clothing. At least she was covered in necessary areas. Most embarrassing was the fact her left arm was bare to the world. An ugly burn scar in the shape of an elongated pentagon stood out on her left biceps.

"Ah, rather good reaction. Quite excellent!" Michaela noted the man spoke in the native tongue: Japanese. Much to her disdain, he refused to budge and Michaela began to struggle to try to move through the floor away from the man, only to feel her ribs cracking again. She screamed again in both unknown fear of what this man did to her, the pain in her sides, and the fact her shirt and sweatshirt had been replaced by white bandages.

'Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.' Michaela thought. "He raped me! I lost my innocence to this bear! Shit! Shit! Shit!'

"Hey, Boss! You wanted me to tell you when the girl woke up. . . well she's awake!" He called off in another direction. Michaela squirmed more thinking that perhaps this boss was the cause of her tragic loss of her virginity. She cried out and cursed more as she felt herself reopen.

Her incoherent swears in her mind were disturbed by a lackadaisical voice that had entered at the sound of a sliding door and click clack of Geta sandals. Her attention focussed on the sound of that said voice as she turned her head to face another tall man.

"Tessai. . . you have to stop doing that," said the "Boss".

The man was not as tall as the one on top of her seemed to be. About six feet and two inches with the aid of the Geta shoes. Nor was he tan. In fact he was one of the palest men she ever saw . . . big boned with broad shoulders, a somewhat long face, framed with untamed dull-blonde hair and masked by an old fashioned fan. When the fan batted forward she saw that his chin was stubbled with unshaven facial hair. Micheala roughly guessed he was about thirty years old. A rather nerdy looking man, she decided. And his attire was the strangest thing Michaela had ever seen!

A matching green Samue and trouser set clad his form, revealing some of the man's large pectoral muscles in a droopy V. His darker green haori fluttered around him as he glided into the room. His body build pretty much hidden in the drapery of his clothing. His wooden cane twirled aimlessly in his other hand. The most noticeable clothing item was his bucket hat. It shadowed the upper half of his face making his eyes, difficult to make out. That hat stood out and blatantly established that he had the worst fashion sense of the world. Not that she wasn't old fashioned, and she actually liked the get-up, but Michaela couldn't see anyone wearing a green and white striped design on one's head.

Her brief fascination quickly turned to outrage, but all she managed was a meek growl. A tear betrayed her and slid down her face as she felt the bandages lap up her open wound.

"Please don't struggle, Miss. We mean no harm. I see now I'll have to re-bandage that." The green clad man could have been talking about the weather, for how casual he sounded.

Michaela couldn't translate in her head. She was much too stressed in SO many levels. Without thinking she responded in English,

"_What did you do to me? Where is my shirt?"_ She coughed onto the Tessai man's face, then saw her blood speckled across his tan face. Tessai proceeded to get off her finally. A silence followed and immediately Michaela realized they probably didn't know what she was talking about.

"I'll go retrieve the bandages." Tessai lumbered out of the room bowing his head to his boss before closing the sliding door behind him. Michaela turned her head side to side to get a better understanding of her whereabouts. The only thing the room revealed was that it was an old Japanese cultural style and she was on a futon. No windows, no clue where she was. Checking for a sign of hope she looked down and sighed in relief, seeing her pants still intact and fastened onto her form. How she managed to run in Tripp pants she would never know, but she was thankful that they still covered her ass, or was put back on her ass. Along with her shirt and sweatshirt, her torn sneakers were missing.

Her thoughts then retreated back to pain as another spike of displeasure stretched through her rib area. And what was Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs doing? Just staring at her!

"_Peas do not move. Bad for cut,"_ said the tall man jabbing air at her in the general direction of her ribs with his cane. Michaela was not surprised, for most Japanese citizens knew at least some English. The 'Boss' walked to her side and placed his fan and cane down. He gently put a hand to the bandages and swiftly began to rip off the first layer. Michaela yelled the first Japanese word that came to mind,

"Hentai!" She swatted his arm away and then got another cracking noise from her ribs as a reward. She arched her back and screamed.

"Ah! So you do know Japanese!" The man smiled cheerfully. Michaela could now see the grey eyes hiding in the shadows of his absurd hat. "I'm going to help you. Your going to have to trust me unless you want to die."

The factual tone in his voice frustrated her. How dare he speak to an injured minor as if it didn't matter to him. She should be in a hospital! Her furred brow relaxed as she remembered why she was here in the first place. Did she want to be saved? 'He did not mean for all those things to happen, but perhaps he did want me to be rescued. . . all along thats what I've been dreaming for. . . a savior,' she thought, 'Could this man really help?'

Too tired to think any further, she reluctantly submitted to this Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs as he tried again to remove her bandages.

"Please sit up," his tone more pleasant and caring then his gallows' humor a moment ago.

She hoisted herself up on her elbows, and he gently placed his hand on her back, to support her. A women can never fully explain how a man's hands a woman's body feels, regardless of the relationship. Now sitting up he continued his task. Skillfully removing each gauze layer with expert skill. Something about the way he delicately worked around her aching torso gave Michaela the impression he was a dedicated worker. His hands crafted around her making her calm, but still could not ease suspicion totally from her mind. But the voice telling her to be careful was silenced by her sudden urge to live. Though she was hanging by a thread to this hope, at least she was hanging and no longer falling.

Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs got to the last layer of the bandages. She herd the door slide open again to hear it shut quietly again. She thought it must have been Tessai dropping off more medicine or bandages or whatever. Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs reached over to retrieve them. He knelt beside the young teen and went back to his work immediately.

"My name is Urahara Kisuke by the way. What's yours?"

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First chappter done ^_^

Hentai - pervert (f.y.i.)


	2. You Lie

Thank you, my one reviewer. Seriously though I'm kind of bummed I'm not getting as many reviews but I shall continue! Please review! You get brownie points!

The dream section is italicized for y'all.

I don't own bleach. Duh.

And here's chapter two for ya.

"My name is Urahara Kisuke by the way. What's Yours?"

'Oh! He must be the owner of the shop I fell in front of. And small talk? That's rather sudden. . .'

Michaela raised an eyebrow. "I'm-"

_Rip_

She gasped and quickly crossed her arms in attempt to cover herself up. She felt the blood rise to her ears and face. He was just trying to distract her! Like he'd care who she was anyway. She whined, letting the man know her discomfort.

'Savior my ass. This man's bonkers.'

The man chuckled lightheartedly. "I see you like your opinion known, even when you are too exhausted to form proper sentences."

Michaela shifted her head to look at this Urahara man. Was he. . .? As she expected, he was. He was staring. Staring at her. She knew she wasn't the prettiest girl in the world. . . far from it in her mind. But the facts where that he was a man and she was a half naked, defenseless woman. She growled but dared not move her arms from where they stayed. Normally a shy girl, she would never dare bite the hand that feeds, but she didn't care what strangers thought of her manners and needless to say, the circumstances where different. Mr. Urahara chuckled again, noticing he had been caught.

"Forgive me, but it has been a while since such a pretty lady has been to the Urahara Shouten." She spat a blood filled wad of saliva into the perverted eye of the shop owner. No man since her father ever called her pretty. The word didn't suit his lips.

"I prefer to be in the hospital's care," she grumbled. She felt a surge of satisfaction as the shop owner rubbed the red sticky slime from his eye. There was no doubt a hint of irritation when he spoke again.

"Is that how you thank someone who just saved your life? Not to mention I'm bandaging your wounds."

"Hmph. Don't trouble yourself. Why didn't you take me to the hospital?" Michaela was pleased at how tough she sounded.

"Your wounds were so serious you would have died long before we reached the hospital." Getting a wet cloth from the kit Tessai had dropped in, Urahara dabbed away at his eye. Again he was talking as if it happened all the time! "So I saw to it that you healed."

"So why save me? You owe me nothing." He stopped dabbing his eye and looked at the girl straight in the eye, moving closer to the injured female's face. His gray eyes piercing her with his new seriousness that he was wearing in his crooked smile. She gulped.

"It was rather puzzling to me that such a pretty girl would try to kill herself right in front of my shop. And frankly speaking, I love puzzles. . .and aiding fair damsels."

Her eyes widened in shock. How could he deduce her suicide attempt? It could look like homicide or an accident, but he jumped to the right conclusion first. Plus he called her pretty again. . . and a damsel?

"Ah, I see by your expression that I am right in assuming that. Never mind it is not my place, and you are tired," he returned to the kit searching for whatever supplies he seemed to need. "Well you did bad job. You missed your heart by a long shot, but it gave Tessai and I a heck of a time stopping the internal bleeding."

"No. . . I uhaccidentallyfell." It wasn't technically a lie.

The green man turned again to his work. He poured what smelled like alcohol onto her wound underneath her left breast and dabbed it with another warm cloth. Each addition of pressure made her feel more and more uncomfortable.

"You lie." He whispered in her ear. The breath hummed through her brain, sending shivers down her body. She did not like this Urahara Kisuke. He was too smart.

It seemed ages as he healed her, putting awful smelling stuff all around her torso and wound. Not to mention some of it practically glowed and shimmered with unearthly glitter. His hands did not linger from their intended posts but it was nowhere near relaxing. He explained the medicine's uses but she never would remember them all. Just that it hurt, the medicine smelled, and she had to move her arms from her chest eventually. She hated the idea.

Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs took out the new clean bandages at last. By then she was pinching herself to stay awake.

"I'm afraid you will have to move those arms. The odd store manager smiled and scratched the back of his head, perhaps trying to look innocent. She didn't buy it, but did as she was told and relaxed her arms as he coiled the bandages around her breasts and torso. She looked away not wanting to see the look on his face. He was going irritably slow and Michaela piped up,

"Well you're taking your sweet time." She managed to form an understandable sentence this time.

"Just being careful not to mess up your girlish figure." She dipped her vision towards him and saw his lips turn up in a crooked smile out of the corner of her eye.

"Don't make me spit in your other eye." She lazily but angrily groaned.

"Please don't."

She grumbled as his hands twitched, at every "accidental" contact with her sensitive flesh. She was too aware of what those hands wanted. Then again, maybe her mind was in the gutter as much as the man bandaging her. Michaela was by no means used to anyone (especially with anyone of the opposite sex) seeing and touching her in such a manor. The whole experience was extremely awkward from her stand. She was also disappointed that this perverted shop owner, was the first to see her half naked or whoever bandaged her in the first place. Her ideals of marriage before nudity totally obliterated now.

Finally he finished and ripped the end of the bandage roll with his teethe. Out of the kit he pulled a bottle with more strange smelling fumes emitting from its cap.

"Drink this. It will help replenish you blood." She teared as she gulped down the bottle in a swift swag. It tasted like a mix between vinegar and old strawberry milk. She gagged as she gave the bottle back to him.

"You may lie down now," he said, and he finished cleaning up his supplies and put them back into the kit. More then happy to oblige, she lied her head against the soft pillow and her brain pounded from the new position. She felt her mind become dizzy again, knowing she was going to pass out at any time. The green clad man was about to leave but he turned just before the sliding door closed behind him. He peeked his blond head in as if forgetting something.

"I never got your name."

Very tired, she dreamily breathed out, "Michaela. I'm Michaela Greene." She let her heavy eyelids close. Nightmares shrouded her dreams. . .

* * *

_The dark staircase winded down further. She tried running from the thick scent of alcohol embedded in the air of the apartment. She heard a shrill cry sound above her. The angry scream of a woman followed her down the never ending staircase. _

"_You will not leave me!" A woman with light brown hair shouted over the railing. Her middle-aged wrinkles in a distorted frown, her eyes steamed with angry tears. Michaela ran faster as she heard the footsteps get closer to her. She could see the end of the stair well about three flights down. With no time to react she felt the impact of a full on body slam from the older woman in pursuit of her. Down they fell. Bones grinding in her ears as they both screamed down down down to the last floor. Hard cement greeted her fall. _

_Michaela pushed the body off of her. Her sides hurt so much but she needed to get away. She took one last look at the heap on the floor. She died of a broken neck. . . the girl had killed her. . ._

_Running through black room upon black room, swimming across miles of stormy bloody oceans she found herself in front of the Urahara Shouten._

_Suddenly she felt herself getting picked up by strong tan arms towards the direction of the shop. She screamed and flailed in the unknown arms until she was thrown to the ground into yet another dark room. The only light was from a phosphorus green lamp that could be seen far off in the distance. She crawled towards the strange light. An immense amount of pressure bounded onto her outstretched hand. Michaela cried out as her fingers crunched. A Geta sandal clamped down on her hand and splintered her skin. She looked up seeing a mischievous grin, eyes masked by the shadow of a strange hat. His grin. . . she will never forget that plotting smile._

_He took her by her shoulders as roughly as Michaela could imagine._

"You lie. . ."_ The man said as shoved her back to the floor. He took his cane and flipped her on her back. She was covered by his larger form immediately. His knees compressed painfully into her injured sides. Her cries for mercy drowned by his evil laughter as he cut open her shirt with the blades of his fan. _

"_NO!"_

Michaela awoke sweating and panting for air. Beads of perspiration covered her face making her bangs stick to her. Her short auburn hair was frizzed by the tossing and turning. Once she had thought about the situation her breathing returned to normal. Trust her to have a dream like that about the most previous male in contact with her. She blamed her teenage years and her friends back in America, but others here in Japan seemed rather clean in the mind. Not that she talked to many people anyway. Gosh she was so weak. Still, she chose to pay attention to her dream and stay on guard no matter how hospitable this man might be. Michaela remembered the events of the previous day. The store manager, his creepy employer, the switchblade, the stairs. . . She rather not remember.

"_Mom."_ The broken angel cried once more. Tears dancing off her face and into her lap. "_He did not mean for this to happen."_ She choked out. She remembered why she pulled out that switchblade. Any pleasant feelings of a savior had left her in her nightmare. She quickly rummaged through her many pockets in her pants to try to find it. It wasn't there. 'Damn it,' she thought. Her stomach growled, but she was used to that and chose to ignore it like she always does.

"_Money doesn't grow on trees,"_ Her mom would say. "_Without money we don't get food. I'm suffering too you know! Besides you're plenty plump enough." _Feh. Her whiny, bitchy, little mother. . . her poor mother. . .

Michaela attempted to get up but her ribs protested. Instead she scooted towards the door and slid it open. She wanted to find her clothes and her knife, leave, and die. Her resolve for living diminished. She couldn't burden Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs forever. When that time comes, she'll be on the streets, dying slowly anyway. No money for school, clothes, or food. She dare never go back to the apartment in search of money or valuables. Never again did she want to climb up those stairs. . . never again.

She began crawling out. She noticed it was still dark outside but a light came from a room (she guessed the dining room from the thick smell of tea) to her right. To her left was a long dark hallway of more rooms. Hearing voices from the dining room she decided to try the rooms instead. Not much would happen if she got caught she presumed. She was dead anyway. Death has a way of making consequences a lot less threatening.

Michaela was intelligent in ways but hopeless at household chores,especially at old fashioned modeling. Opening a door on ones belly was impossible from her angle and skill but she knew how to in her old room from seeing her 'saviors' open and close it. Not that she bothered to close it.

She crawled along the hallway army style, trying to figure out which side of the door opened and which way to pull them. Of course her attention span urged her to move on to the next door after about twenty or so tries. Each door ended in an epic fail. She gave up and crawled back to her room. Perhaps whenever she would be released she could just do away with herself. Determined more then ever she inched her way and clawed at the opening to her door, trying to get it to close. The voices in the dining room got louder.

"Give the kid a break. . . obviously she's distressed." Michaela recognized the lounge-like tone as Mr. Hat-n'-Clog's laid back voice.

"She's a threat to our existence! And I don't care what she says in her sleep!" She did not recognize this voice. It was too old sounding and less, well, stupid sounding then Tessai's voice. The voice was undoubtedly male though. It hissed, angry as a cat. Curious to what the two were saying about herself, she felt no qualms about listening in.

"Please, Yoruichi-san. Just give her time to heal."

"You just want another woman in the house," replied the one called Yoruichi.

"Her gender has nothing to do with this!" The shop owner said a little too loudly. Michaela could hear him clear his throat and start speaking only to be hushed by the other character's shush.

"Do you want to wake everyone up?"

'Everyone?' Michaela thought. 'How many people could there possibly be? The only people I know of are these three creepy men. . . Oh god. . . is this a gay house? No, Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs didn't seem like a homosexual. . . was his interest in my body just a cover up?'

Michaela missed a good portion of the conversation in her yaoi filled thoughts. She snapped back when something that Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs said captured her her attention once more.

"Soul Society won't know of any of this, I swear."

'Soul Society?' Michaela loved the supernatural and couldn't resist coming in closer. Plus, they had began to whisper so she couldn't hear as clearly.

"For your sake, Kisuke, they better not. If this girl finds out about the afterlife, they'll target her, and this entire shop will be under arrest for spilling secrets of Soul Society, to a living human!" The old voice hissed.

"You don't think I've considered that, Yoruichi-san? Besides, we've dealt with Korosaki's friends before"

"That wasn't us who blew the cover though. You can thank Ichigo for that one. Besides, even they have five times more spiritual energy then this girl. Can't you just erase her memory?"

"I already told you we used up all of our memory chikon up on passing pedestrians walking by the store. We couldn't have people thinking they've seen us cover up a murder case. All that blood she left in the street would really attract attention. Our next shipping of memory chikon comes in two months. By then retracing all of those memories is near impossible with the quality of our products."

"You're one who's good with gadgets! Make something more powerful!"

"I don't command the gods, Yoruichi."

Michaela peeked her head around the corner. The green man sat on his feet on the floor at an old styled coffee table she saw in traditional styled homes. Everything was rather traditional styled in this shop, actually. Perhaps these people were some sort of vampire cult. She couldn't see the old man he was talking to across the table. All she could really make out was the back of the shop owner and the strong smell of his tea. She snuck quietly and stealthily by him and settled underneath the table. She was thankful her efforts went unnoticed. She looked to the other side of the table to see no one sitting on the floor. 'On the table?'

"What do you plan on doing with her when she's healed?" the voice said from above her.

'Yup on the table,' she confirmed.

"A girl who tried to kill herself in plain site of civilization can't have a good family life. An orphanage sounds really friendly, too," the old voice said sarcastically.

'Damn. I thought I did a good job of covering that up.'

There was no reply. Michaela heard the shop owner slurp on his tea. She heard a frustrated cry from above her and the table slightly shook.

"Fix it, Urahara!"

"Where are **you** going?" Inquired the store manager.

A cat jumped off the table. Black as midnight, and nimble as a ninja. Much to Michaela's utter shock it spoke like the old man above her.

"Me and Soi Fon have a date in Soul Society. She finally found time off and I'm going to-" said the cat. Then, its feline ears twitched. It turned its silky black head to see Michaela huddled in fetal position under the table. Michaela gasped in surprise and jumped in fear at being caught. The gasp made Urahara-san drop and break his cup. The jump rattled the table and she hit her head on the top of the table, making it tip over. The table cloth dumped on top of her and she struggled to resurface out of the white cloth. She heard the cat yell,

"KISUKE! YOU DIDN'T NOTICE HER UNDER NEITH US?!"

Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs, as calm as ever sighed and replied, "Well neither did you, besides her reiatsu is so weak." Michaela felt his hand remove the table cloth from her.

Michaela looked up to the gray and yellow eyes staring at her. She groaned, "_Shit_."

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Review please ^_^.

Don't like yuri? Deal with the Yoru/Soi pairing cuz it's sticking. Those who are offended by girl girl, do not fear. I'm not going into citris with it. Just accept the fact it exsists.


	3. Employed

I own Bleach and its characters. Hey look police! I kid. I don't. I wish.

But Michaela's my OC *bark bark bark* stay away you idea thieves!

Special brownie points to Inuyoshie for the review!

Warnings: Eh itty bitty blood and itty bitty language.

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The green clad man helped the startled teen sit up. He gently put a hand to her shoulder. No more goofy smile, no more creepy stares. He was the epitome of seriousness. It frightened her. Her already tear-stained face sported more tears.

"How long have you been there, Mee-kay-rah-san?" he wiped away a tear with the semi calloused pad of his thumb. She flinched at the sudden invasion of her space. All she could think about was her dream.

"Long enough," grumbled the cat, yellow eyes staring a hole into a startled Michaela.

"Well. . ." The shop owner let out a long pregnant and awkward pause, "looks like we both got explaining to do," He smiled and rubbed the back of his head, letting out small nervous laughs.

The cat's eyes widened, "WE don't have to explain any more then we already HAVE. Our safest bet is to kill her now. It's a pity but for Soul Society to remain a secret," the cat pounced on top of head of the teen, forcing her on the floor. The cat raised its paw and retracted its razor sharp claws, "It must be done." Michaela squeezed her eyes shut but before she could feel the caress of the cat's claws Urahara had picked Yoruichi by the scruff of his neck, making the cranky cat meow.

"Now now, Yoruichi-san," he said, "there's no need to be rash."

"FIX THIS!" The cat meowed furiously and scratched the shop owner's pale hand. It hit the ground running to a door, most likely leaving. Again, an uncomfortable silence followed with the green clad man holding his hand, which seemed to have drawn blood, just starring at the door, and from what Michaela could tell, in a pensive state.

"Oh. . . my. . . god. . ," said the girl, dumbfounded and mouth slightly ajar.

Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs looked over his shoulders curiously, to see her response. "What is it, Mee-kay-rah-san?"

"You have. . . a freakin' talking cat. . . and it's pissed!" Michaela was astounded on SO many levels.

"Perhaps that cat wouldn't be so pissed if a certain patient would mind her own business. . . and not hide under coffee tables." Over his shoulder he flashed a grin. The same creepy grin from her night terror. Michaela began to shiver. Goose bumps sprouted all over her body. What was this senile shop owner thinking?

"W-what's going o-on?" Her trembling betrayed her. She mentally cursed for stuttering.

"Looks like I have a new employee," still smirking his insane smirk. Who knows what odd scheming took place under that hat.

The uneasy silence of the eccentric man was disturbed by the grumbling sounding from the depths of the teenager's stomach. She blushed at how loud it seemed. The blond blinked. Immediately he began to laugh. God she wanted to run away. . . or hit him. . . whatever got her killed faster. The depressed creature slumped back down into the fallen table.

"Excuse my manors," he chuckled again. Every chuckle or laugh, she found, was like he had never been told a joke before. It was like he made the most out of everything, even a laugh. So she felt that he was going to get the most out of her. The question was: What did she have to offer to a perverted shop keeper? "Let me get you something to eat." With that he walked over to the sink and ran his injured hand through the water.

"At this hour? Wait what time is it?"

"About four in the morning." He shut the faucet off and began to take out random boxes. The bleeding in his hand

had seemed to stop.

Michaela began to believe more and more this man was a vampire. That would explain the milky white skin, the afterlife situation, and the fact he didn't seem to sleep. Just to be safe she asked,

"Do you ever sleep?" She knew she must have sounded stupid. She regretted her inquiry.

She got yet another chuckle from the taller man. "Of course. In fact I'd imagine I sleep more then I'm awake," he joked. "I'm not much of a cook. Usually Tessai does that, but I think I can manage a quick bowl of ramen. Oriental or chicken?"

'Damn him'. He found a weakness of hers: Ramen. "Umm oriental, please."

'So he isn't a vampire. . . what on earth is he?' But she had more important worries then the strange manager. She wanted to know how long she had to live. Not that it mattered to her, of course.

She watched as he took out all the necessary kitchen supplies.

"Sir," she spoke timidly, "What are you going to do with me?"

The blond stopped running water into the pot and placed it on the oven and began boiling water. He sighed. "Well I can't let you go and tell all your friends of your little adventures here. Oh and while your over there, if you could clean up the mess you made."

Annoyed that she was asked to do something productive in her condition, she pouted but sucked it up. Michaela stabled herself on her knees. Then slowly she stood and proceeded to flip the table back on its original side. She could easily lift the table with her strong short build.

"Don't have to worry about that. It seems I remain prone of familiars as of the moment. I prefer not to entangle the lives of others into my own troubles." 'That goes for the inhabitants of this shop too,' she thought.

"Oh ho ho. Somebody has a fascination with the art of Japanese," he said impressed. He poured the uncooked ramen into the now bubbling pot. "Especially for an American who is but a novice to the language." He smirked. Two can play at this game.

"It comes and goes. I find it rather important to excel in vocabulary no matter which language one speaks. And I am no neophyte. I've been speaking Japanese at home since I was little. My mother and I were what you would call 'wapanese' at the time . . ." 'Wow were we creepy wannabes or what?' She remained lost in thought of good times watching anime and going to conventions with her once sober mother. She shook her head and changed the subject. "H-how did you know I was American?" Michaela finished covering the table with the tablecloth. She noticed the broken cup that was sprawled about the floor. "Do you have a dustpan and a broom?"

"In the closet," he pointed with his wooden stirring spoon. The scent of ramen brewing was intoxicating, even if it was just instant three-minute ramen, it was like a narcotic to her. She hovered to the closet and retrieved the broom and dustpan and resumed sweeping. "Your accent was a dead giveaway for one," he continued. "Plus, no Japanese can compare with the big beautiful eyes of your homeland."

Michaela chose to ignore his flattery. She wasn't used to such compliments. Every boy at her old schools had thought she was too weird or too depressing or ugly or something to be around. With a slight blush to her tear reddened cheeks she grumbled,

"Dawww I thought I had a good Japanese accent." She did a fake puppy dog frown. She was a brilliant actress, but managed to suck at lying. How she wound up with that combination embedded in her genes she'll never know. With her facade portraying hurt, it lured the manager to provoke her even more.

"Haha! Your accent is as obvious as the scar on your arm. Speaking of which did you get that beauty while fracturing four of your ribs and stabbing yourself?" It wasn't rude, per say, but irritatingly insensitive.

The pot began bubbling angrily, but the manager chose to ignore it or didn't notice it. He leaned back against the counter awaiting a reply. His smug grin glowed with confidence. His eyes gleaming with a twinkle of intelligence. She was determined not to let the scum bag in on her life.

"Hmph. None of your business," she turned her nose away. "AND your American accent sucks! You can't even say my name right!" she had managed to get all the shards onto the dustpan. "Where's your trash can!" she asked, still partially yelling.

The green clad man went wide eyed and pursed his lips together in disbelief. Michaela took it he didn't lose many arguments. He opened a cabinet underneath the sink and revealed a trash bin. Michaela snootily dumped the remains of his teacup into the bin. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively and leaned against the corner opposite the manager. His astonished look was quickly masked by his fan he grabbed from his trouser's pocket.

"You think my accent sucks?" he feigned hurt. The girl nodded and kept her eyes glaring at the manager. "Your name** is** Mee-kay-rah- Go-re-en, no?

"Mi-kay-la Green," she said slowly and clearly.

"Mee-kay-rah Green." Still not getting it. . .

"Mi not me, and its la not ra."

"Mee-kay-nah Green."

"Almost."

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, "Meh-kay-nah Green."

She slapped her forehead. It was like teaching a baby advanced physics.

"Eh, close enough." Michaela sighed. She didn't really care. The blond sweat-dropped.

"Eh heh heh," his chuckle filled with embarrassment. "Got a nickname?"

Michaela thought. When she had friends in America, they had endless piles of nicknames for her. She tried to think of one that didn't have an 'L' in it.

"My old friends in America called me 'Minkwee'."

The manager slapped down his fan in his opposite hand and snorted. "Minkwee? Oh ho ho! Are you serious?" The green clad man seemed to be having a hard time retaining himself. Bending over clutching his sides, he attempted not to bust a rib. (No pun intended.)

The one dubbed Minkwee twitched an annoyed eyebrow. "Yes. Minkwee."

"HA HA!" He exploded in laughter. "That's the best name ever!" He was now rolling on the floor, enjoying the new word he learned far too much then he should.

Mikaela was about to kick him and tell him to quit it, but something hot and wet lightly splashed her scarred arm.

"Ah! What the- THE RAMEN!" She removed the pot from the heating zone and blew all around the steaming pot in attempt to undo the spell of burning. Turning the stove off she carped, "Look what you did!"

The fully grown man on the floor was still laughing like a child when a lumbering Tessai walked into the kitchen in his night cap and matching PJs with two pre-teen children following him with groggy eyes. One was a boy redhead about eleven in baseball pajamas, and the other was a tall girl that appeared younger than Mikaela, with purple cockroach styled hair and huge purple eyes. Her timid aura an opposite to the arrogant, shorter boy beside her.

"What's all this ruckus!?" Bellowed the giant man. "ITS FOUR THIRTY IN THE MORNING! SOME CHILDREN ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!"

"We're right here, Tessai," said the boy.

"Oh," replied Tessai pushing his glasses back into place.

"Oh ho ho! That was funny!" The manager said as batted himself with his fan.

"Oh sorry," Minkwee said as Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs recovered and slowly rose to the floor. Never one to disturb the peace she minded her manors. The situation with her spitting in Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs' eyes didn't count. "Did we wake you?"

"Are you kidding?" The red head boy threw a mini fit. "From Manager's obnoxious laughing fit, and your banchy screaming, how can anybody sleep?!" Tessai's large fist came crashing down onto his fuzzy red head and down the boy went with a yelp.

"Be respectful to our guest, Jinta!" Tessai shouted. The purple girl just watched in hidden fear. Perhaps she was so quiet due to her provider, which appeared to be the Tessai man.

"You've met Tsukabishi Tessai," Urahara bowed to the taller muscular man. He bowed back in acknowledgment. She bowed her head for she couldn't bow her torso. "And the little lady is Tsumigiya Ururu, and the brat's Hanakari Jinta." Jinta stood at hearing his name. The two children bowed and Minkwee could tell it was killing the Hanakari boy.

"Please to meet you," said the shy girl in a meek little voice.

The tall blond paced himself between Tessai and his 'patient'. "In fact," started the manager, "our guest will be working with us from now on!" All the people in the room jaws dropped including Minkwee's. The insane shop owner seemed rather pleased but as soon as the sentence was finished he got questions and complaints launched from each member of the group (except the little purple girl) all at once.

"Why? Is she a shinigami? Her reiatsu's practically nonexistent!" Shouted the red head.

"Manager! She's an ordinary human! You know you'd be breaking Soul Society law letting her know about us!" Tessai said more in shock then in anger.

"Wait! What?!" said a confused Minkwee with all the yelling voices.

"A living human?" said both children.

"What does this mean?" asked Minkwee, all too confused at what just happened. "What is a shinigami. . . and a reiatsu? What's Soul Society?!"

"Woah woah woah! Calm down everyone. I get a new employee and everyone's all in a fracas!" Shouted the green clad man over the others. He let out a deep breath. "Minkwee-san," he flashed a smile at the teen, "is not going to tell anyone about this store. Right, Minkwee-san?"

"Who am I going to tell?" She responded unenthusiastically. Death had been the farthest thing from her mind while talking to the shop owner. Now it sounded like a luxury vacation in this hell of people who seemed to want her out of their lives, aside from the creepy blond manager.

"Hmmm," hummed the eccentric one. "You tell me. Do you have an immediate family?"

"Dead or married in the States," she answered annoyed.

"Who is alive right now?" This interrogation was getting on her nerves but perhaps telling the truth will be less painful then dancing around the point.

"My two sisters I'm pretty sure. I haven't spoken to them in over two years." She was getting rather embarrassed now.

"Any other family in Japan?"

"No."

"Friends?"

"Nothing."

The manager hummed again. She frowned at how intrigued he was by her world surrounded in angst. "I assume you know nobody would believe you when you tell them of our existence?" He began to quicken the pace of his fanning..

"I'm not ratting you guys out already! Just tell me what's going on!"

The blond yawned and stretched his right arm over the teenage girl and his left over Tessai. "I'll tell you everything in the morning, but I'm beat."

"It is morning," said Minkwee trying to scoot under the arms of her capture. Alas his grip on her shoulder was too firm to evade. "Just tell me now! Just a moment ago you were sprawled on the floor laughing your head off! Besides it's almost time to wake up!"

Ignoring her he cried to nobody in particular, "We'll be like a happy family! Ho ho!" He released his employees and turned on his heel to go down a separate hallway. "Good night everybody!" he yelled off.

The rest followed and went what looked to be upstairs, leaving a frustrated Minkwee in their wake.

'I suppose that's where all the bedrooms are," she thought.

A gentle voice called off from upstairs, "Good night, Minkwee-san!"

"Good night, uh, Ururu." Damn. She hoped she got her name right. She was horrible with the remembrance of names.

Minkwee quietly snuck over to the counter and served herself ramen from the pot. It was mushy, but food none the less. She gorged herself in the oriental mush of the burnt ramen.

Realizing how late the hour was she trudged to bed with a hint of annoyance in her step. She walked into the room she had been assigned. Killing herself was off the agenda for now. 'Not a wise thing to do when amongst colleges,' she bitterly thought to herself. She had to admit though. . . she kind of liked the idea of a family. She had been in a broken one for so long. Hope shined within the soul of the adolescent. The children are grumpy or unnaturally timid, the nanny's a giant muscle man, and her provider is a perverted, not-right-in-the-head creep. She'd fit in nicely. She laughed with all of its bittersweetness. She was always attracted to weird things. She still wanted to know what was going on though. She realized her life most likely got ten times more complicated but noticed she didn't really care. She'd get to miss school, but school was the least of her woes. She wanted somebody to care for her broken heart. But if they did would she accept their pity? No she hated sappy tales. Then again she liked them. Oh the misfortune of adolescent hormones telling her heart one thing and her mind another. She couldn't even understand which idea came from the heart and which one belonged to the brain. Shakespeare made it sound much more romantic. The contradictions of human emotion frustrated her beyond all sanity. God she detested it. She longed for more of these feelings which she had denied. She wished for explanation and then again just wanted to believe in the majesty of it.

With mixed feelings she tried to close the door behind her. It slid open a little more. She got on the outside of the room to see if she remembered how Tessai or Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs exited. After a bit of riddling with it she managed to close it. 'Now how did they enter. . . actually I didn't really see them enter.' She attempted to lift random parts of the door to try an find a latch of some sort. Leave it to her to not be able to work a door.

"Ah screw it!" she gently lay down on the hard floor, much too tired and moody to think about comfort. Lucky for her she can sleep like a log anywhere anytime if tired enough. For the second time that night she was plagued by nightmares of her mother, the staircase, and the hot scorching iron. . .

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Will Urahara ever tell Minkwee what the hell is going on? What will these nightmares do to our heroine? Will Minkwee ever open a door?! All shall unfold.

I swear on Kisuke's life: Michaela/Minkwee is not a Mary Sue! I'm sorry I threw in dead parents but I didn't want to deal with parental interfearence. Thank you!

I also swear that I did not use a thesaurus or dictionary! I would like to thank Freshman vocabulary books in school and my interest in vocabulary for all my word choices. Going to use a word u never used before seems less personal to me and I would only use a dictionary for a spell check because my program's spell check sucks.

Review please!


	4. Headache

Next chapter is up. R&R.

Warnings: Swearing and some violence from the annoying red head

Pairings: Urahara/OC hints

I do not own bleach or it's characters:C

Minkwee's mu OC. Take her and suffer the wrath of Team Urahara

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Minkwee awoke mere hours later to an annoying poking of a hard blunt object into her head. She swatted it away still half asleep. It poked her again . . . and again. Minkwee whined,

"Five more minutes . . . unnnnn"

"Time to get up, Lazy Ass!"

She looked up and squinted to try to get the sleepiness out of her eyes. She could make out the outline of a small figure. She could make out the red hair and could tell it was Jinta but before she could respond the bat he seemed to be carrying came crashing down on her. A blow to her head silenced her thoughts. Everything became a hazy blur to her after that . . .

She drifted in white space hearing voices outside her body fading in and out.

"How was I supposed to know she would have gone out cold!? I thought she'd wake up!" Came the explanation of Jinta. He sounded so far away.

"Go get the boss!" cried a frantic little girl. Minkwee felt something touch her eyes but she could only see the white cloud-like mist around her. She was floating like in a pretty dream only with a big headache. "Oh no she's not responding! Oh hurry, Jinta."

Within Minwee's dreamland she felt a small tremor ignite around her. Within seconds she heard the thunder of somebody angrily click-clacking down the stairs.

"Damn it, Jinta! She's different from us! She could never handle a blow like that!" She heard from farther away. She felt her body lifting. It was Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs. "Why's she out in the hall?" She dared not open her eyes. Her head hurt and started pounding like mad when she attempted to think of an explanation to her state . . . so she didn't . . . and she continued to drift.

"She was lying out here when I hit her," Jinta's guilty voice echoed in her pounding brain. The pain was not as bad as her ribs but it didn't tickle either.

"Minkwee-san . . ." The lazy voice hummed through her head, "Come out of the light Minkwee-san . . ." The shop managers coaxing voice rebounded off of every direction and at her head.

Suddenly she felt another presence enter. It didn't really enter . . . more like appear. What was this new . . . spiritual pressure?

To add to her mass headache and confusion, Ururu pointed out,

"Mr. Urahara-san! Your cane . . . it's . . . glowing."

Minwee felt her self become surrounded by liquid warm as blood. She could feel the presence all around her. Surprised gasps sounded. She didn't know what was happening but apparently what was going on was astounding.

"It hurts," she managed to say, clenching her eyes shut still. She heard murmurs of relief . . . then her white world turned black and she was falling . . .

* * *

Minkwee woke again, with her head throbbing back in her original room. She thought of sitting up but remembering the fragile state her ribs were in, she decided against it and groaned. From what she could tell there was nobody in the room. She put a hand to her head finding it had a patch around the throbbing region. It felt huge! 'How'd I get this one?' She tried to remember but the memory had slipped from her grasps. She suddenly realized she really had to pee.

She crab-walked over to the door and waited for it to open. She didn't want to have another episode like last night. Not like she remembered how she got out anyway due to the new appendage she required on her head. She'd have to wait until someone opens the door. She groaned and banged the back of her head to the tortuous door. Not smart. She ended up making the bump in the side of her head vibrate slightly, mocking her stupidity.

"Ung . . . _Fuck_." She stared at the designs on the wall brown, green, . . . and squares . . . lots and lots of squares. Yup she was bored. Great. She had to pee, her head felt and probably looked like hell, she just barely got over a suicide attempt, and she was bored.

She **gently** leaned back against the door. She started humming the first Panic! At the Disco song that came to mind. She loved the classics so much more then the trashy rap that had become the only form of music on the radio aside from oldies and golden oldies. Then the door pulled out in mid chorus, causing her head to move with the door, shortly followed by her body, and when gravity got the best of her she collapsed on a heap of Geta sandals.

"Uhh I believe you're resting on my feet," said the casual shop owner.

Minkwee shot up to her feet in a flash. Her sides only perturbed slightly. "Where's you're bathroom?"

Slightly bewildered by her spunk he pointed, "Take a right at the kitchen door and it's next to the door that has the sign that say's 'Storage' on it."

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(A/N: I have no idea if that's right or not. Don't yell but please inform me if you ACTUALLY know the layout of the shouten.)

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"Thank you!" She rushed as fast as she could with the given directions. Surprisingly her ribs didn't ache or protest. Her head wasn't too cheery with the sudden escalation in speed, though.

When she returned to her room she saw a bowl of an unknown brand of cereal and some orange juice on a tray next to her futon. On the other side of the sheets sat the man with the ridiculous hat, (with the same clothes he had on yesterday . . . or this morning), nibbling into a pear.

'Aw. How thoughtful.' She turned the corners of her lips up for what felt like the first time in years and sat down to join her new manager.

"Itadakimasu!" She said the polite phrase for one who is about to partake in a meal. She wasn't even a spoonful in when--

"Why were you sleeping in the hallway? And why were you so eagerly at my feet this morning?"

No 'Good morning', no agreeing statement with her 'itadakimasu', no 'How are you feeling?' She shoveled a spoonful of chocolaty flakes into her mouth to delay her response.

She gulped. "I couldn't figure out the door," she grumbled before shoving another spoonful down her throat.

The lazy looking man sitting next to her smirked. "One of the many things I must show you today."

Her attention darted from her cereal to the shop owner in an instant. "You mean you're actually going to tell me what's going on?"

He nodded.

She felt the large bump that protruded outward from her skull.

"You wanna tell me how I got this, too?"

"Oh. Jinta was going to wake you up to help with the young ones' chores and the idiot hit you over the head with a baseball bat." His tone suggested that the flagrant child was in the deepest trouble of his young life.

'That would explain a lot," she thought to herself. "So how is it I'm not brain damaged?"

"I have a couple theories." He didn't specify but continued nibbling into his pear.

As if on cue the flagrant boy who had injured Minkwee in the first place shyly slid into the room. His gaze downward and his face slightly flushed. Minkwee was glad such an annoying young boy realized his mistake and could live up to his grave mistake.

"I'm sorry for calling you a lazy ass," he grumbled. His eyes dejected from her gaze. Minkwee blinked. She did not remember the experience after all. "It was wrong of me to call you names when I don't know your that well." He blushed and stood there awkwardly.

"Aaaaand?" chimed the manager.

"And I'm sorry I hit you with my bat," he added quickly.

Just then the timid angelic girl tiptoed into the room.

"I would also like to apologize for not being more helpful." She politely bowed her head.

"Shut up Ururu! Stop being so depressing!" Shouted the lamentless child.

"Wahhh!" The young girl skittered away and the sound of the pitter-patter of her feet pitter-pattered upstairs.

'This shouten is so old. Everything creaks or shifts when you step on it . . .' Her thoughts on the layout of the shop were disturbed when Mr. Urahara shooed Jinta to go apologize to another member of their home.

"One of these days Jinta! One of these days you'll be sorry and apologizing won't be enough!" He punted the runt out the door and returned to his seat beside the confused young lady. Minkwee saw the worry in his eyes about his boy employee. It was the same look her father gave her when she had gotten when she was little and got into trouble. Not that she did often. She was probably the best-behaved child anyone could ask. She shook her head. She diverted her attention the tall manager to her right.

'Hmm something seems off about him.' She couldn't put her finger on it. 'He hasn't let out a laugh yet. No, I guess that's not all that strange.' She couldn't figure it out. 'What was so different about him then before?' She stared into the shadows that palled over his gray orbs, masking his forever-mysterious self. He seemed not to notice as he looked at his pear looking for the next place to bite. Dare she wonder any further into the grasps of those eyes? She dared.

The gray pools dragged her into a world where she could practically sense the betrayal. What sad song had this man to offer?

As she looked into him she felt the sensation as if she had just stepped out of a hot shower. Thick air, but pleasantly warm.

Minkwee did not realize her staring until her spoon dropped in her lap. She snapped out of the gaze and retrieved it, rather embarrassed.

"Minkwee-san . . ." The shop owner took a bite into his pear and continued with his mouth full. "Wha dshoo shoo know aboush Benshimeshay?"

"Um pardon?"

He swallowed. "Benihime . . . What do you know about that name?"

She peered through confused squinted eyes at the green clad man. "Never heard of it."

"Interesting . . ." He took out his cane and set it on his lap, looking at it in what Minkwee wanted to call . . . admiration?

"What's interesting?"

"All in due time." He placed his cane to the side and put the pear core next to his cane. "First tell me how you found your way to this shop. Then I'll tell you everything you need to know."

Minkwee swirled her spoon around the flakes in her bowl. "I was kind of just running randomly and . . . stumbled across it."

"A bit rainy for a jog don't you think?"

She glared at the man next to her. How dare he mock her pain. "My mother's an alcoholic damn it!" she slammed her spoon onto her tray, causing her chocolate flakes to bounce in response.

He was taken aback by her sudden outcry but said nothing.

"Well, was an alcoholic . . ." She felt the hot tears swell within her. Gosh she was so weak! She clenched her fists trying to focus her pain elsewhere.

"So you're a runaway?" There was no trace of mock in his voice. Just a curious child lurking for reasons as he rubbed his stubbly chin.

"I guess so," she mumbled. "She died the day I came here . . . oh my god wait! How long has it been since you found me?" She realized she could have been here for weeks unconscious and her mind succumbed to her imagination.

"Yesterday," he smiled, easing her tension.

'Why did I just become calm? It's like his smile was the sun on a snowy day. Odd but . . . beautiful . . . wait. What the hell?'

"We managed to heal your wound in just a few hours." Minkwee gave her manager a questioning look. "We have special treatments and trust me I've seen worse," he explained.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, sir, but what exactly do u **do**?"

"We're not done with you yet," he quipped quickly. "So you ran away with four cracked ribs and a knife sticking out of your ribs in the pouring rain in the middle of April?"

"I don't see how this matters." She was done venting.

"If you want me to figure out why your not soupy from Jinta's bat blow, I must know what kind of environment and what happened previous to our meeting." He flashed a stupid grin.

She sighed and swallowed her spoonful. "I fell down the stairs in my mom's apartment." This was beginning to feel like old conversations with the guidance officers from her old schools. Of course she lied to them, but that was so she wouldn't be put in a foster home.

"From what I've compiled in my mind, I've concluded that your apartment is near the Hirohyaku Supermarket based on the strain on your legs from running, meaning you must have left your home between three and five P.M., you are between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, you planned on taking your life not far from my shop, and you fell in a puddle, landing on this," he took out and fingered the switchblade and put it back into a saggy green pocket. "Because if you had stabbed yourself the angle of the incision might have killed you."

"Wow," Minkwee said astounded. "You're good."

The blond took out his fan and mellow- dramatically began to fan himself. "One of my many quirks, Minkwee-chan."

She regretted boosting his ego. "You seem rather qualm-free about talking to me in the familiar."

"You seem rather qualm-free venting your life story to a man you met yesterday."

She made a frustrated sound that was a mix of a growl and a yelp.

Mr. Hat-n'-Clogs, let out his hearty laugh. "What was that?"

"Gah, I'm just annoyed. So are ya going to tell me what you are and why every thing's so freakin' secretive?" She hated the fact this man was so stubbornly smart. In comparison with her classmates, she was superior academically and quick on her feet, but lacked social grace . . . or any form of grace for that matter.

"As you wish." The malevolent smirk gallantly foreshadowed that Minkwee was in something way over her head.

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Sorry, that was a short one.

What did you like? What did you hate?

I think a lot of people should know what any of the Japanese words are if they watch the sub version of the show (which is much better). If not just send a comment asking.

These first few chapters are mostly set up but do not fear the plot IS coming!

Comment or lower the chances of my inspiration to continue. :[


	5. A Day of Explanation

Thanks for the Reviews. Keep it up. Enjoy!

Minkwee: Minkwea5000 does not own Bleach but does own me, her OC. Don't take me!

Minkwea5000: *Hugs tightly* I will protect you, Minkwee-san

Minkwee: Oh dear. Not another creep who likes to touch me -_-

Warnings: Minor adult situations and swearing.

Some spoilers from Hueco Mundo arc!

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The day seemed to fly. The odd pair spent countless hours explaining the world of Hollows Shinigami, Vizards, Arrancars, Quincy, Bounto and countless other sub divisions Minkwee was sure to forget. It would have been a lot better if he didn't explain using crappy pictures that he had saved from a previous client. Minkwee learned of how humans became souls or Hollows and Shinigami come and rescue the good souls and kill the wicked ones. What was even more confusing was the process of hollification. Mr. Urahara unraveled the history of Kurosaki Ichigo, current Captain of the Fifth Squad and his wife, Kurosaki Rukia, Captain of the Ninth Squad. Also, the creepy manager told of their friends who helped them, including himself! Minkwee learned of Orihime and her Mexican husband, Chad and the mod souls that now live with them, and the Quincy, Ishida Uryuu, who all reside in Karakura Town! Not to mention all the taichos and vice-taichos and even a few hollows, mod souls, and humans helped. The manager also told of the evil deeds of the not so nice fellows. Minkwee was relieved to know Grimmjow and Aizen were finally defeated after the sacrifice of many allies. Of course he mentioned the battle of Soul Society and Bounto and the triumph over Hueco Mundo. So where did this little shop fit in?

The manager explained that he was a taicho one-hundred thirty years ago. According to the previous 12th squad taicho, the wicked shinigami named Aizen had framed him for all of his crimes, leading to his exile along with the vizards and Tessai. The crazy, genius, straw haired man, himself set up a sort of Black Market for the Shinigami world. To keep store he got a human customers to buy some of his imported candy. Of course he didn't elaborate. Either way, the story seemed too deep for Minkwee to grasp its true sadness and the rotten calumny that occurred in this place called "Soul Society".

Minkwee adored these stories. Thank goodness Tessai brought snacks. Surprisingly, her storyteller never got tired. Not to mention he enjoyed answering her many questions. His intelligence was daunting but oddly refreshing to her eager mind. They way he wiggled his finger when she made a wrong assumption or the way his mouth formed a D shape when she finally understood a segment made her smile inside. The tale made her lips quiver upwards in an attempt to form a smile, and she nearly teared at how tragic it could be. Just the way he sold these stories made her want to believe them . . . almost. Her manager's purportions seemed too irrational and amazing to be true.

"So do you understand where we come from, Minky?" He smiled at the sound of his new nickname for his listener.

'Oh brother,' she thought agitated. She blew the bangs out of her left eye. "Sure, I guess, but I still don't get something."

"Query away, Minky Minkwee!" He lay down in a position Minkwee can only describe as those she'd seen in male model magazines. He sprawled on one side bending his outer leg forming a P with his legs. Caught slightly off guard with his comfortable, yet . . . revealing, stance that exposed himself, she stuttered,

"I-i-if you work out of Soul Society rules th-then why where you worried about letting me know all this?" 'I will not look. I will not look. I will not look,' she told herself in her head averting her eyes and focusing on his face.

"I was never worried, Minkwee-Chan," he plucked out his fan and worshipped himself with it's breeze. The air ruffled down his Samue and her eyes creeped lower and lower . . .

She looked down, pretending the wooden patterns in the floor were more interesting. "Well . . . then why did that cat not want me to know anything?" She convinced herself to keep a cool head and act as natural as she could. 'Damn my mind having a . . . mind of its own.'

"Remember the second division with all the secret missions? Yoruichi was captain of that squad long before me. So Yoruichi is a secretive as a fox with a squirrel in its clutches. She doesn't want to give Soul Society problems. It would damage her rep with Soi Fon as well."

Minkwee tried to imagine the black cat leading the Covert Corps of ninjas. Minkwee also remembered that Soi Fon and this Yoruichi cat was an item from the previous night's displeasures.

"So why would it be trouble for them? Wouldn't it just be easier if I knew what to expect when I die?" She looked up to see her manager sitting up in a more reasonable position much, **much** closer in front of her then he was before. She was sure she'd never have the hiccups again after that silent surprise.

'One thing's for certain,' she thought. 'He's a sneaky little bugger.'

"Minkwee-san," He slapped his fan away and hid his eyes in the shadows of his hat. "What I'm about to tell you is only known by the first squad and some perhaps in the twelfth squad. It's covert and very top-secret." She leaned in forward in anticipation. "If living people obtain spiritual energy they threaten to be more powerful then most souls once they cross over. You see, when a soul dies, their spiritual powers are released. When they learn to control that power they have potential to become shinigami. As I hope you remember, it takes many years to just pass the Shinigami Academy alone."

"So it's an unfair advantage if I obtain this," she inserted finger quotations, "'power' early?"

"Let me finish!" he whined. "ANY WAY, true you would have more experience and thus more powerful, but what most people don't know is . . ."

His dramatic pause made her lean forward in anticipation so much; she began wobbling on her knees. He reached out an arm to stable her and she quickly landed back on her butt to evade the touch.

He sighed. "Humans who haven't crossed over . . . can triple the power yearly once in Soul Society." She was lost. Just to keep the conversation going, for she felt she could no longer understand, she asked,

"How? What does a living soul have that a dead one doesn't?"

Urahara smiled his D shaped smile as he revealed his hidden knowledge. "Oh, I'm glad you asked! The spiritual power obtained after death is all the energy and particles you would have never used in life. Think of it kind of as an inner Force, like in Star Wars, only its trapped in a sort of vortex, if you will, inside you, instead of all around you. So a living body closes this power until it can be used after life. If a living person gains spiritual powers it forces this vortex to open prematurely. Giving less power then a dead soul, but it gives the human a sort of sixth sense. Some are born like that, and some absorb it by being around a copious quantity of spirit particles. So if that said person dies, how does the soul's 'vortex' open if it already open?"

Minkwee blinked in stupidity. As if she'd know.

"Well, I'll tell you~!" His ranging high and low pitches in his voice dipped as he teased the ignorant girl. "The 'Force' inside the vortex, that flowed in and out of the live soul reacts to the dead soul as food. The Force tries to consume the soul to sustain itself. But the vortex needs the soul to exist so the vortex expands at each attempt as the 'Force' gets sucked back in making it expand even more. This widening gives more room for more and more spiritual pressure to flow in and out. At each widening of the vortex, which I call, a Vortex Cycle, genius, I know, the soul's spiritual power increases slightly. This can happen anywhere from three to ten times a year, depending on how well the human could previously control their power. So humans who obtain spiritual power, or even knowledge of spiritual power, are threats when they enter Soul Society."

"Any particular reason why?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Do you really want me to explain spiritual physics?" She had trouble deciding if this man was insane or overly zealous about his own stories. Either way, she hated science and didn't want any part in fake or true physics.

Minkwee rolled her eyes. "Whatever." The man with the strange hat peered through hidden eyes. Then an awkward silence lingered. She curled her knees to her chest and realized she was still less then modestly covered. The bandages had gotten looser. "Oh and where is my shirt and sweatshirt by the way?"

"You don't believe any of this do you?" He ignored her wardrobe question.

Minkwee sighed. "I believe you come from somewhere unlike here . . . but you said that this all happened thirty years ago?"

He nodded and goofily smiled behind his fan.

"Well, I have a hard time trusting that your well over 130 years old when you look so young." The manager tilted his hat down hiding his face even more. Minkwee could hear him softly sniffling.

"THANK YOU MINKWEE-CHAN!" He lunged and gave the surprised girl a big bear hug, nuzzling his face into her breasts. "Nobody has called me 'young' in such a long time! You're so kind-hearted." He sounded touched and the fake joyous tears streamed down from the shadows where his eyes were supposed to be. Minkwee rolled her eyes as he cuddled enthusiastically into her.

'Whatta lying dunce. Get out of there.' The feeling was strange being surrounded by another body. He was surprisingly cool, but not cold. It was kind of like the feeling going into a room with an open window on a windy day and then lying on a beanbag. Either way it made her shiver. This perhaps gave him better validation that he was a soul in this "gigai" he spoke of. She sweat-dropped but didn't have the heart to move the happy man from her so she patted his back comfortingly like dealing with an emotional child. He squeezed her harder in response.

"OW! ITAI!" She arched her back forcing him to be even more encased in her decent sized boulders, as much as one could when wrapped. Not her plan. She was just reacting to the pain in her ribcage.

He pulled out immediately and threw his hands in the air. "Sorry! Forgot about that," he apologized. 'He acts like his offense was merely a step on the foot or something!' She pouted at her thoughts. "How are your injuries feeling by the way?" he asked trying to make up somewhat for his actions.

She looked at how disheveled her bandages had become. "My ribs felt much better, thanks but . . . I really wish I had MY SHIRT."

Tessai interrupted by sliding half of his body in the room. "Dinner's ready, Boss!"

"Oh goody!" The manager arose and slapped his fan back inside his forest-green pocket.

Tessai lumbered out. Minkwee gaped at how this subject got dodged constantly.

"Is it just me, or do you insist on not returning my clothes?"

The manager chuckled as he held open the door. "You ask too many questions, Minkwee-san."

"But what about Benihime? How to open a door? MY CLOTHES!?"

"Later," he insisted.

"UGH!" Minkwee flew her arms up in utter disbelief at her manager's quips and received a ripple of pain as punishment. "Ow! _Fuck_!_"_ She covered her ribs and then her mouth realizing she had bombed the F word. Even if it wasn't a Japanese swear she had the need to say sorry. She blushed and was about to apologize but the eccentric man just laughed his laugh. The texture of his mirth seemed almost like hot chocolate, making her warm once more. Still blushing she stood and exited, with a still chuckling shop owner trailing behind her. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sorry that the chapters are getting a bit shorter. I'll do my best to make the next one longer.

I hope nothing was too confusing in my explanations!

R&R!


	6. Putrid and Vile

Thank you, my reviewers!

Warnings: Blood and Swearing

Urahara: Minkwea5000 does not own Bleach or its characters.

Minkwea5000: *drools* Thanks Urahara! But Minkwee is under my control. None for you!

Urahara: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw *rolls on floor whining*

Minkwea5000: Hehe, anyway here's chapter 6!

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Minkwee ate as slow as she could, but restraining herself from the delicious cooking of Tsukabishi Tessai was shamefully difficult. Of course this was the first real cooking she had in God knows how long. She felt four pairs of eyes peer at her as she ate. The surveillance of the other apparently already deceased people, made the meal uneasy to the strange girl.

Mr. Urahara cleared his throat and broke the silence. "So is there anything that can do to convince you to believe that what I told you was the truth?"

"Nothing comes to mind," she grumbled. She wished he'd show or give her some proof.

"Oh Manager, I have an idea!" Ururu raised her hand eagerly. "Why don't we take her on a hollow hunt!"

Jinta hit the shy girl over the head. "That's a stupid idea!"

The blond of the group fingered his chin in thought. "Hmmm. Not necessarily, Jinta."

The children were now in a mini match of pinching and were too involved in their game to notice the rest of the conversation.

Tessai looked from the girl to the manager several times. "You expect her to be of much use catching a hollow, Boss?"

"No, but she could learn. Besides we deal with this stuff all the time, since Kurosaki and Rukia are both in Soul Society, and Chad and Inoue retired to take care of their family problems, and Ishida really shouldn't be helping anyway. She just might be helpful someday."

Michaela let the comment of her lack of use slide. She'd just create waves by trying to prove herself a strong person, which she was relatively.

"Besides," Urahara said, "she should learn why Karakura Town is so dangerous."

"Karakura Town is dangerous?" Minkwee noticed it felt kind of different in this town. She'd only been living here for about half a year but the mortality rate did seam to be larger then the multiple other places she'd lived beforehand. And there wasn't that much crime and disease either. So why was Karakura Town so special from the other places?

"Of course you wouldn't know but Karakura town has the highest concentration of spirit energy in the world. For whatever reason long ago there were multiple deaths in this region, drawing in hollows, that caused more deaths and it just became an unstoppable cycle." Mr. Urahara responded but his thoughts seemed to be plotting elsewhere. He began mumbling and the children's game had increased intensity. "Hmm I'd need to talk to Yoruichi about it."

"Ow, Jinta!" Cried the innocent girl.

"-Oh and re-bandage her wounds . . . hmm," said the manager ignoring the children's bickering.

"Shut up and take it like a man!" Jinta countered.

"Close shop on Saturday's maybe to have training days."

"But I'm a girl!"

"No no no not another weekend day. I already close on Sundays . . . Mondays perhaps."

"Wuss!"

"Yes Mondays definitely. Hardly anyone comes in on Mondays."

"Meanie!"

"Oh and I'd have to give Minkwee the shinigami eyes."

"Why don't you just take your cannon and shove it up your-"

"Whoa whoa whoa! Hold it!" The children seized their brawl and blinked at the out bursting teen. Mr. Urahara looked up from his planning trance and Tessai . . . he just started eating again.

Minkwee had disturbed something, she could just tell. She longed to get out of the social discomfort she felt almost every time she spoke. That was how it's been for most her life. She flushed a slight shade of pink becoming self-conscious.

"Sl-s-slow down a second. What do you mean by the shinigami's eyes?"

The manager peered his eyes from the deep black shadows that covered his eyes. "The Shinigami eyes . . ." the tone of slight malevolent insanity rang through his eerie voice. She saw only the creepy man in front of her, entrancing her with his words. "They will allow you to see hollows . . . reiatsus . . . and-"

"SPIRITS BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Minkwee jumped and squealed in her high voice that surpassed a proud soprano as the children and Tessai sprang from behind her, 'Bwahahaing'.

Without thinking she would respond the way she would with her American friends flailing her arms in panicked motions. "_What the fuck, guys! SERIOUSLY! You antiquated pecks of jelly flub! Damn it! Hoh boy, don't scare me like that!"_

Innocently Ururu tilted her head. "I'm sorry I don't understand."

"You don't want to," the manager had said crossing his arms in disapproval.

"Why? What'd she say?" said the annoying red head.

Minkwee saw a glimmer of light flash through the shaded gray eyes of the manager. "Oh she said that you guys are hilarious and that we should joke like this more often."

Minkwee glared at the ridiculously dressed blond. "Why do you curse me in this manner?" she rhetorically inquired in a low voice.

He smiled. "Any way I'd have to kind of surgically go in those pretty eyes of yours and-"

The rest blurred as she heard two words ring in her head. "Surgically" and "pretty" again. 'When will he learn that that word stains his **ugly **lips?! Ugh! And surgery?! Is this man mad!? I bet he doesn't have a license to do this shit!'

"Um can't I just get like contact lenses or something?"

"Don't worry, Minkwea-san. You don't even feel it. I used it on myself!"

Now that she thought of it . . . the darkness around her manager's eyes kind of reminded her of burn marks . . . "Well have you tried this out on anyone?"

"Yes. I told you. I tried it on myself."

"That's not what I meant."

" . . ."

Minkwee grew tired of this man's equivocal answers. "There's no way! I don't need to see your creepy soul people!" She got up and took her empty plate to the sink and angrily scrubbed at it. "Where do I put this?!" she asked, still partially yelling, holding up the squeaky-clean plate and silverware.

The manager gave a disheartened sigh. "Just leave it there, Minkwee-san. You are excused."

Of course being a hormonal teenager she took offense that he noticed that she wasn't being polite by excusing herself. She assumed that he was displeased with her. 'Feh. I don't need his or anyone else's approval.' Her anger boiled unnaturally high. The tension of the past few days had finally hit her. She clenched her fist and tried to clear her pounding head from both her injury and a massive headache of nasty memories. They whispered her fears. _The stairs_. 'He did not mean for this to happen' she held her head in pain. _You're alone now_. 'He did not mean for this to happen.' She assured herself but the voices of her past gnawed at her, causing her heart more pain. _They're all dead now. '_He did not mean for this to happen.' She started holding her head with more intensity, as if trying to squeeze away the evil reminders.

"Minkwee-san . . . are you ok?" Her manager called out so far away.

The echoing voices vibrated making electrical buzzing sensations around her. It was like being in a vortex of reminders of how evil the world is, how she had no friends, how worthless she was that she wouldn't even take up a little surgery to help these people. How she was stupid, weak, ugly, and evil. She was putrid. She was vile. She clenched her nails into her head to relieve the pressure. She felt blood trickle slightly down her hands and bangs along her forehead and let it drip to the floor. _You killed her. _

"_He did not mean for these things to happen!"_ She screamed aloud.

"Tessai grab her! She's going to try to do it again!"

Minkwee felt the large muscular hand around her wrists insisting she release herself.

"Do what again?" came Jinta's voice, who was quivering alongside Ururu.

Urahara breathed out the words, "Kill herself."

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Again my chapters are seeming shorter. My apologies!

I'll keep you in suspense for a while, seeing I do not have computer access at camp.

R&R

-Minkwea5000


	7. Guilt

Sorry it took so long for the update. Camp doesn't give me computer access T_T

R&R :D. I enjoy your constructive criticism and comments!

Warnings: Blood. Surprisingly Michaela's mouth is not an issue in this chapter.

Disclaimer:

Minkwea5000:I don't own Bleach or its characters *Big smiles*

Jinta: But she owns the Minkwee freak!

Minkwea5000: *Punches Jinta through floorboards* Well said, One-With-No-Constraint.

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The strong hands of Tessai yanked on Minkwee's hands to try to stop her self from hurting herself further, but just made them frantically scrape harder into her skull. Blood trickled in and out of her line of vision.

The voices quieted enough for her to stop the clenching of her head. She trembled and looked up at the expressionless Tessai and then to her bloody hands. He waited for her to calm down. At the sight of his frowning face the slithering voice crept back into her mind.

"_How many more people will bleed for you?" _It hissed and coiled around her mind, driving her insanity over the edge.

"Tessai!" came the panicked order of the man with the strange hat.

Tessai slowly reached his hand towards her.

"Leave me alone!" She swatted the mans beefy arm away and ran. She didn't know where but she saw windows to the outside world.

"Tessai!" called out the manager once again. "Don't let her get away!"

'I am nobody's captive!' She found the front door. She managed to open it as she heard the heavy running footsteps of Tessai, the click clack of Urahara, and the clumsy patter of two children behind him. She slammed it shut as she heard Tessai mutter some incantation. It was still pouring rain outside. The gloom still lurked over Karakura Town like Guilt lurked over her. She bolted to the street. She needed to get out of here. Run somewhere where the Guilt wouldn't get her. Just as she was about to reach the sidewalk to her freedom from the shouten, she ran hard into what felt like a wall. She fell back and landed clumsily on her behind. The shock made her injuries quake. She screamed. The wet rain would not stop for her. Unforgiving clouds dumped more rain onto her. She heard the door open a few yards away. She hoisted herself up and rammed into the invisible wall. Her ribs cracked. She screamed as she repeatedly threw herself at the wall. _You'll die here, you know. Being held captive until your old and useless. _She heard soft footsteps tread through puddles getting steadily closer to her. She didn't want to look back. She didn't want to see their faces. It was no longer a chase and the predator had only to stalk his pray now. She pounded her fists into the barrier and attempted to free herself of the dreaded Guilt. She screamed, as each bang of her fist did nothing. _Wherever you go . . . I will find you._

She slumped to her knees defeated. She watched her hands as the rain slowly washed the ruby red blood away. She covered her so-called 'clean' held her face and she wept. She couldn't beat this . . . beat her. She was her own worst nightmare. She was in so much pain. 'Why can't I die?' Suddenly the rain stopped pelting her, but she could still hear the roar of the water falling down from the sky. She took her hands away and looked up to see a solemn man. He was blond, tall, and seemed rather muscular underneath the baggy green old-fashioned clothing he wore. His blond frizzy hair framed his somewhat long face. His gray eyes sadly stared down. One arm carried a cane and the other an umbrella; creating their own separate dry world from the others she saw standing, drenched in the doorway. She wondered why before she didn't want to look at him. She couldn't stop.

It hit her harder then when she pounded against the invisible wall. A sudden realization occurred to her as the man stood motionless above her. She was the Guilt. She had nothing to be afraid of as long as some one . . . some one who cared could help her forgive. She wasn't alone in this battle. All she feared was herself. But she needed help.

She took a deep breath. 'It was not my fault . . . and I guess I can't run.'

She rose to meet the gaze of the man who gave her a look. She could say it was pity. She could say it was sorrow. But she felt something too confusing as the man reached his arm with the can around her and pressed her to him. The cool of his body comforted her. She accepted the gesture and put both her arms around his waist. She felt so protected . . . kind of like when her father used to hold her. She cried silently into the man's chest and pulled on the droopy fabric that curtained his back. He gently rubbed the back of his full hand across her back in encouraging motions. She sniffled and let out a distressed sob.

"It's going to be alright," he said.

For once, she believed him, as they stood shielded from the rain, under Urahara Kisuke's umbrella.

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Sorry that it's another short one. I hope it was a good conclusion to my cliffhanger i gave you.

This story is by no means finished. Stay tuned! And don't forget to review! :D


	8. Healing

Sorry the ubdate's late. I couldn't log into my account for whatever reason :/

Warnings: Blood, wearing, minor adult situations, and undescriptful nudity.

Disclaimer:

Minkwea5000: I do not own Bleach or it's characters *cries*

Urahara: But she does own Minkwee *cries*

Minkwee:. . . Hey guys, if you stop crying I'll give you a Klondike bar.

Minkwea5000 and Urahara: YES MA'AM!

Enjoy!

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After Urahara had fixed her ribs, closed up the scars on her head, and re-bandaged her, she was taken upstairs to be moved to a new room. In this room she could see the front of the street from a big window. It was simple with a few basic objects. It had an empty, plain, wooden dresser, some shelves, a tall mirror with a round wooden frame, and a plain white futon. It was basically the same design and structure of her 'healing' room. There she found her shirt and sweatshirt she missed so much.

She grabbed them up and took out her plain white T-Shirt . . . that was no longer white. She had nearly forgotten that she had injured herself and bled in this outfit. She saw the hole and all around it was a reddish brown reminder. The thought made goose bumps up and down her arms. She fingered the stained material. She looked at her red Tripps closely. She could faintly see two similar shades of red fighting for dominance in her pants in various splotches. Her black sweatshirt was torn the most and even in it's dark color, dark stains coated it. Even her tan 36-C bra had one cup completely covered in the rusty color. She groaned and ran he fingers through blood-matted auburn hair.

'I really don't want to wear this.' Her mind was somewhat throbbing and couldn't think more in depth then that. Her experience with the invisible wall conjured by the tall beefy man seemed enough proof to her that her manager's stories were true. Her road ahead was nothing she would ever have dreamed of, both good and bad.

As if reading her thoughts, Urahara's click clack announced himself as he peeked his head into the room. His face warm and sunny unlike the current forecast. "Tomorrow, Tessai will be taking you to your apartment to retrieve more of your clothes."

She froze. Never again did she imagine going back to that place. With all the bad memories, with all the fights, with the iron, with the death . . .

"Umm me going back there is not going to work out, you see . . ."

"Now you see why I didn't want to return your clothes." His 'I told you so' tone annoyed her enough that she dared roll her tired eyes.

"Yeah yeah yeah. Anyway I can't go back there."

"I'll give you till morning to reconsider. I'm sure you won't enjoy waltzing around my shop in the nude nearly as much as others," he said brushing off his sleeves, oblivious to his embarrassing manner.

'What a creepy man.' She flushed pink at the thought but forced herself to explain her critical situation. "Well . . . you won't find any of my clothes there."

Swatting a stray fly half paying attention to the pleading girl he mused, "Now, now, Minkwee-san. You must overcome your fears eventually or be consumed by them."

Just then, little Ururu peeped her head in gaining the attention of the pervert. "The water is ready Mr. Urahara-san."

"Great!" He finally squashed the annoying insect and focused back on his teenage patient. "Minkwee, I'm sure you'd appreciate a bath."

"YES! Thank God!" This was the first time she felt excited since she got to this place. Her aching mind scolded at her at the sudden change of emotion.

* * *

As far as awkward moments in her life this was pretty up there. Though her wound and fractures were increasing in health at a rapid pace, she gave herself a heck of a setback by re-injurring herself earlier. She needed help undressing the bandages, sitting down in the bath water, applying all the essential healing products made bathing by herself out of the question.

After a long debate with her manager, Minkwee finally convinced him to let Ururu handle it. Thankfully, the little girl Ururu seemed to be medically trained enough to handle the task, and Minkwee wouldn't have to deal with her perverted boss's snide remarks.

After showering off any access blood and shampooing her hair she found herself submerged in a liquid state of cleansing warmth that seemed like a gift meant for a god. Ururu poured water and soap down her back, leaving a viscous, oozing trail that was scrubbed down by the sponge in the hands of the big-eyed girl.

She scrubbed special ointment on her closing wound and carefully bathed Minkwee along her back. After seeing that this girl was not going to ridicule her, Minkwee relaxed and enjoyed the lazy feeling of the warm water.

The two went along in silence a good majority of the time, until the purplish black-haired child drove the sponge's attention to Minwee's scarred arm. Minkwee could sense the hesitation.

"Excuse me for obtruding, but can I ask, ma'am, how did you get this? To me it looks like an . . . iron . . ." the timid girl seemed truly frightened. Whether from asking a question or from the way the charred burnt black mark Minkwee couldn't tell. She did her best to not sound bitter but the fact she couldn't separate her jaws didn't make her sound any sweeter when she spoke,

"I got a C in science," it managed to slip out between gritted teeth. She tried to calm down when she felt the young girl washing her become rigid. She looked up to see a confused and worried face on her visage. Minkwee regretted sharing her burden with the girl and gave a shaky smile to reassure her that she wasn't mad . . . maybe she was reassuring herself a little, too.

She looked back into the bubbles that had formed in her bath searching for delicate words. "Well my mother was a great person. She was creative, could do anything with computers, and funny. We were like peas in a pod most of the time, but after my dad left for the war, she turned to alcohol as her new best friend."

Ururu dropped her sponge. Minkwee took the chance to seize it and do the front side of her body and legs. The poor girl didn't have time to object. Minkwee looked over her shoulder to give a small smile in hopes of loosening the moment and to show that she was ok. Ururu wasn't the only one in the room who needed convincing. Ururu's expression mollified but Minkwee could feel the questions buzzing in her companion's head.

Like a whirlwind of change the girl unwound. "So did your mother do this to do? Where was your father stationed in the war? Did he return? What were your parent's names? Do you like pink?" Minkwee sweat-dropped at the sudden liveliness of her new friend. She smiled as she tried to stop her companion's diarrhea of the mouth.

"Woah whoa! I can only keep up with so much! I don't understand much here so bear with me. Oh and you got to answer some of my questions."

The girl giggled like a typical giddy schoolgirl. "Sorry! Yes anything! I guess I got carried away! It's been a while since I've had a 'girl chat'." She emphasized by putting in finger quotations. She was so cute with her bug eyes and hair that made her look like a flying insect. But she was much cuter then any bug Minkwee knew.

Minkwee never liked 'girl chats' seeing as they consisted of topics of flirting and their disgusting monthly trials but she could live with having one with her new friend. She never thought of it before but Ururu was the lady of the house before herself and most likely come in contact with many other girls much.

"Well, I guess I'll start with your questions." She splashed water in a lazy attempt to wash the suds off herself. She looked away, refusing to look at her ugly scar. "Well my parents names were Paul and Michelle. My dad left for the war for the Rebels when I was ten. He always talked of free nations and all that jazz before the war even started. The Universalistic Government supporters where the equivalent to Nazis to him.

Ururu just nodded taking the information in. "So your father died at war?"

Minkwee looked away. "No," was the word that trailed her breath. He died two years ago and she still couldn't talk about it. The war had ended four years ago. 'He must be proud of the downfall of The Universalistic Government, wherever he is.'

Ururu expected an explanation, but when her older colleague gave her none, she continued understanding an un-phased,

"So do you like pink? It's my favorite color!"

Minkwee was surprised at how unnerved the girl was. "Um . . . so you're not creeped out?"

"About what?" She tilted her head innocently.

"Me having dead parents. Most people put on the pity face and back away."

"Not at all. We meet many people who have had a loss in their life. It is very common actually. Besides, most of our customers are dead." She sounded so cute but the morbid factuality of it foiled her sweet personality. But it humbled Minkwee to know she wasn't the only one out there with such a sad tale. Being the youngest of her family, life was usually revolving around her. She was determined to not be so selfish as to worry about her own problems. She had a debt to pay to these people.

"So," Minkwee paused. She couldn't believe she was buying into the shop's stories but she was curious as to where her mother is going. "Is Soul Society a nice place?"

"I've never been, honestly. But all the good spirits go there, so it must be a good place."

Minkwee nodded. "Do you think my mom made it?" She regretted asking. As if the poor girl knew anything about her mother's soul.

"It depends on the soul. If your mom managed to let go of her sadness, then perhaps she was taken to the Soul Society."

"Pfft. That doesn't sound like her." Minkwee closed her eyes and tried to picture a ghost of her mother repenting to a black-clad shinigami.

"If it's any comfort to you, we haven't found any new hollows in the area so your mother is not a hollow."

That made her smile a little bit. A hollow didn't sound like such a pleasant creature. She would hate to think of her mother any worse then she was when she left.

"Then again it takes a few days for a soul to become a hollow."

Poor Minkwee sank lower into the bathtub. 'I really didn't need to know that.'

"So do you like pink?" The girl asked again.

Slightly annoyed but determined to be polite she answered. "Not really, but its just a color," she lied. Minkwee hated pink and believed it to be another form of the devil. No color should hold that amount of girly attitude. For sake of not getting on a bad nerve of the mysterious child she didn't voice her true opinion. She sighed at her scar getting back to the story that had gotten so off track.

"I got a C on a report card one day and~ I told my mom while she was ironing clothes drunk." Envisioning the scenario was all too easy. She could still feel the fresh burn, smell the scent of burning flesh, and hear her own screams inside her mind.

"I'm very sorry . . . I never knew my mother. Are all American mothers so cruel?"

Minkwee laughed in spite of herself. 'She is so naive!' "No, silly. Never generalize a nation. My mom's a special exception." Minkwee teared in wonder if she liked her mom or not. After all she got a C! That kind of grade just wasn't acceptable and was becoming more common. She shook her head splashing water about the bathroom.

"Oops," she said as Ururu wiped droplets away giggling again. "Any way, I guess you're not missing out. Mr. Urahara seems like he's taking care of you and the red haired boy."

"Actually Tessai's our care taker, but Mr. Urahara **is** a great person." Minkwee turned and rested her arms on the edge of the tub and dug her chin into her forearms in interest. Ururu seemed so . . . intrigued and as interested in the green gentleman as Minkwee was. She shrugged it off.

"The water's getting cold. May I get out now?"

"Of course." Ururu helped her stand in the slippery tub and walked her over the edge and gave her a fuzzy white towel with the store's symbol embroidered across the center. Minkwee quickly wrapped herself up in the store's towel and sat next to her little friend on the side of the tub as she listened to the water spiral down the drain with obnoxious gurgles of old plumbing.

Feeling suddenly brave, Minkwee asked, "So how did you get here? You a relative of the shopkeeper?"

Ururu stared expressionless at the wall in front of her. "I don't know. I was told I was found as an abandoned baby forty-two years ago. Since I had anti-shinigami powers Mr. Urahara took me in and trained me a bit. He said he wasn't sure if I was human or shinigami bred. When I was three, they found Jinta. Mr. Urahara said he had similar qualities to an anti-shinigami and he wanted a playmate for me so we took him in when Tessai found him crawling around the dumpster." She didn't seem sad or wistful. Just an apathetic doll in the body of a shy timid girl. And she wasn't even a girl! She was older than Minkwee's parents were! That explained her mature way of handling the situation. Minkwee inwardly shuddered at the thought of being older then you look. She was always told she looked younger due to her height and round, childish face, so the thought was rather obtuse.

"I have another question for you," said Ururu.

"Yes?"

"Why do they call you Minkwee? Does it have a significant meaning in English?"

"Heh, not really. When I was thirteen my American friends and I were doing a random project on a non-domesticated animal in science. We chose the mink. None of my friends knew anything when it came time to present. So I spat out some facts on minks and saved our grade. So they nicknamed me Minkwee. I guess it sounded cute to them."

Ururu laughed. "It sounds like fun. When did you leave the U.S? You and your mother moved here neh?"

Minkwee slumped down a little. She never got a chance to say goodbye . . . "Later that year," she paused contemplating to give her the full version, "my mom took me and we ran away to England. About a year ago we moved to Tokyo and moved around ever since. We settled in Karakura Town about six months ago."

"What were you running from?"

Minkwee sat there blankly and ignored the question. 'I'll pretend I didn't hear her.'

A series of angry bangs hollered on the bathroom door.

"You girls better hurry up in there! I've been waiting forever! I **really** got to go!" The thirty-nine year old boy sounded like all the air inside him was slowly leaking out in a painful fashion.

Minkwee jumped. "Quickly! Bandage me up!" Ururu giggled and patched her new friend up with almost as much grace as Mr. Urahara, only a heck of a lot faster then the freaky pervert.

Ururu gave Minkwee a fuzzy white robe that made Minkwee release an orgasmic moan as the warm material consumed her with comfy thoughts.

As soon as they were an inch out of the bathroom a flash of red white and blue passed by them and the door was slammed shut. Behind the door was the tinkling and relieving sigh of the annoying red head.

Ururu and Minkwee looked at each other with wide eyes and a visage that could only be described as a "What the fuck?" face. They creeped away from the sound of the pissing pessimistic pest.

* * *

In a very pink room the two ladies of the house were on the floor laughing with tears welling in their eyes.

"Did you see his face?!" Ururu cried into a big teddy bear of hers. Her Tinkerbelle laugh squealed into the plushy fabric.

"No! I can't track people at that kind of inhuman velocity quite yet!" Minkwee hugged her knees to her chess and laughed in fetal position.

"I have no idea what that means but it was priceless!"

"Ohmygodthatwassoawkward!" Minkwee couldn't breathe. Months, maybe years of no laughing finally let loose. Minkwee snorted and choked on her laughs to the point of it just being obnoxious explosions of sound. Ururu recovered first and looked up from her bear.

"It wasn't **that **funny." Minkwee continued to laugh and felt hot happy tears drool from her eyes. She saw Ururu sweatdrop and so she sat up and muffled her laughing fit into a nearby fuzzy pillow.

"You have no idea!" Minkwee managed to calm her fit into contained hisses sliding through her teeth.

Ururu smiled. "You're funny, Michaela-San." Shockingly she could pronounce her Ls much better then their manager.

"No no hehe. Please. Just call me Michaela or Minkwee. Hehe."

Just then a clumsy crash of click-clacking Getas stumbled through the door. "Is everyone alright!?" said the panting blond. "I heard some sound like somebody was dieing! And then it got quiet and-"

Minkwee unleashed her laugh again at the hilarity of the situation and fell back onto the floor. She knew her laugh was . . . odd but it never got old when the faces of other people began to laugh as well. Whether it was at her or with her, it didn't matter. She got a kick out of it either way.

The tall man looked at the little pig-tailed haired girl incredulously. She just shrugged.

Minkwee sat up. "Phew! I'm sorry. Me and Ururu were just laughing is all."

Minkwee could see the man force down a chuckle as he whipped out his fan. "So that's what you call that monstrosity? Laughing?"

Minkwee nodded now somewhat embarrassed. She wiped the tears from her eyes and felt the hot flesh of her face. She could feel her rosy color just by her own heat.

"Anyway I also came up to take you to the storage room to show you how to organize our cargo." He closed his fan and dramatically pointed at the teen. "Do you, Minkwee Gre-en accept this challenge?" He asked in a game show host manor.

"Uh sure," was her intelligent reply.

* * *

After rummaging through Ururu's things with her, she finally found a plain white long sleeve shirt that would fit . . . almost. Insistent upon wearing the long sleeves she sacrificed showing a bit of her mid drift and forearms . . . ok it was obvious the shirt was way too small.

Ururu even snuck into Jinta's room to steal a pair of grey sweat-pants. Minkwee questioned if taking the sweats was a smart idea, knowing the boy's fiery temper. She shrugged it off and hoped Jinta would not catch her in his pants.

______________________________________________________________________(A/N: No dirtiness intended in the above statement.) _____________________________________________________________________Before Minkwee left the absurdly pink room a shy inquiry caught her attention.

"You will tell me the whole story right? "

Minkwee paused.

"Of how you got here?"

Minkwee smiled. "Later." She closed the door behind her. 'Perhaps Urahara-san's equivocal answers are rubbing off on me,' she smiled in thought.

* * *

Down in the storage room, that Minkwee miraculously was able to find, Urahara explained the basics of categorizing and organizing merchandise. The teen was a fast learner. She found she was rather good at it actually. The overcautious manager kept dropping random pop quizzes, and praising his genius in knowing the answers. He was drilling in rules and repeating himself to the point where Minkwee was about to explode.

"Oh and I can't help but to stress, Minkwee-san, lift with your knees not your back-"

"I know! I know ok!" She was so annoyed. He was the single most irritating, repetitious, so-impressed-with-himself, mellow-dramatic man in the world! She could almost feel herself fuming in frustration. She wanted this training over and done.

He flipped away his fan that he had had annoyingly batting at him all this time. Minkwee could see grey eyes mischievously peering through the shadows of his hat.

"Well well miss smarty-pants lets see if you know this one."

She rolled here eyes. 'It's probably something simple like where do the boxes with the spare fuel rods go.'

He glided closer to her. Taken aback she took a step in the opposite direction. For each step he took she took one back. He advanced until she had backed up against a wall knocking over some boxes that she had just put away. His chilling presence gave her goose bumps and flinched as he bent down eye level just inches from her face. She turned her head and squeezed her eyes shut, afraid. A full moment passed and nothing happened. She creaked her head towards her space-invading manager.

She peeked an eye open to see him examining her with his hand scratching his chin in puzzlement. With his other hand he set his cane aside and pointed her chin to face him fully.

"What?!" She demanded.

"Are you afraid of me?" he mused.

She quivered. No matter how much hospitality this man showed she couldn't get the visions of her dream out of her mind. He was just so daunting to her. His eyes, grey like the clouds before the storm. How convincing they were. If she looked into his eyes she would believe him. She feared the power of his eyes . . . what they could make people do . . . She whipped her head out of his grasp.

"No," she lied.

He saw through it. "Whatever your reasoning may be, just know no one will harm you here." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Myself included."

She gave a half smile accepting it, but never dropping her guard. She brushed his hand off. "So what's your question?"

His gaze lowered downward. "Did you know that that shirt is way too small for you?"

She folded her arms in defense. "Yeah yeah yeah. It's not like I can wear a bath robe around."

He chuckled at that. He took his cane and turned to leave. "Exactly why Tessai is taking you to get your clothes bright and early. I suggest you get some sleep or-"

Michaela sighed. "There's nothing there."

"Excuse me?" He froze.

Michaela picked up the boxes that fell. "My mother sold everything I owned for our next apartment." She dropped the boxes in their proper place with an ungentle thud. "That's when I decided," she choked on her words clenching her eyes shut. 'No. No more crying,' she told herself. When her eyes reopened the shop manager was there with both hands on her shoulders.

"You're healing fast," he said.

She looked at him confused.

"You're wounds should heal fully by the end of the week. Healing your wounds in here though," he poked the area of her chest where her heart was, "is all up to you."

Minkwee understood. "Thanks, Urahara-san."

"You're welcome Mikay-rah-chan." He ruffled her hair. "I'll get Tessai to take you shopping then. I have to go out of town to give a sales pitch to some of my sponsors so be quick so he can come back and keep shop. I don't trust the kids alone here for too long."

Minkwee smiled. "Understood." She bowed her head politely.

He guided her upstairs to her room.

"Good night Minkwee-chan," he said closing the door behind him.

"Good night Mr. Urahara," she said, long after he had left.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I know it's different having Ururu not being shy but I wanted to have someone get Minkwee talking. Also I think it makes sense for Ururu to want to talk to another girl, being surrounded by odd men all her life. Making her obsessed over pink made me gag but I'm sure somewhere sombody thinks it's cute.(The non aging thing with Jinta and Ururu will be explained eventually)

Oh and them having different color rooms is my invention too, because I believe in the espada arc they just had regular rooms with a bed. I feel this way i can get more into the kid's development better. Besides, maybe they redid their room after the espada arc Xp.

Any questions on the Universalistic government? It's a random idea I had in my head that doesn't relate to the story but PM me if you REALLY want a backstory. Chances are it's not coming up again.

As always I would love your reviews. Very inspiring

Please wait a little longer for the update. I am getting busier as school comes nearer and I am almost caught up to myself on writing this!


	9. Mission: Shop Without Killing Yourself

Sorry for the wait. Enjoy!

Warnings: Swearing and perverted tomfoolery :D

Disclaimer:

Minkwee: Minkwea5000 is very sorry for the late update and doesn't own Bleach or it's characters. I am her character so if you steal me I'm getting Ururu to paint your room pink. ALL PINK! MWAHAHAHA!

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

She slept as restless as ever. Tossing and turning in unfathomable nightmares, deluding her sense of the real world with the fictional, terrorizing voices that haunted her. She did find peace as after she was pushed off a cliff by the Guilt. She was caught by a blur of different shades of green and she and her savior floated down the glorious canyon like a descending balloon.

She awoke from her dream feeling eyes staring at her. She assumed her paranoia was unnecessary but she got up and rubbed her eyes regardless. When she opened her eyes there was the sketchy face of Tsukabishi Tessai.

"AUAHHH!" she screamed taken off guard and seriously disturbed.

"Time to go," he said simply and got out from under the covers.

Minkwee groaned. She wasn't looking forward to a day of shopping with the creepiest one in the band.

'Why of all the insane people must I be stuck with the macho nanny?'

* * *

Minkwee gobbled up her ham and eggs breakfast, hoping to speed the process of the day to get it over and done with.

As she shoveled another fork full into her mouth she heard a moaning sound down the hallway. It's ghastly howl sent shivers down her spine. 'That sounded like a ghost!'

As the footsteps and moaning grew nearer she dropped her fork awaiting the worst.

From around the corner came the lazy shuffling of not a ghost but a grown man. Urahara Kisuke was out of his normally tall and proud posture and slumping to the point of almost being bent in half, in obvious exhaustion. The black rings around his eyes intensified ten-fold as dark circles crowned his dark circles.

He shuffled past the eating girl and stopped his groaning briefly. "G'mornin', Tessai and Minkwee-san," he mumbled. With a big yawn that would put a lion to shame, he was off shuffling and moaning towards his office.

Minkwee blinked. "What's wrong with him?" she asked Tessai.

Tessai who was putting something in his wallet answered, "The manager is not a morning person. We try to keep store hours later to give him time to . . . wake up."

Minkwee could hear the manager moaning and crashing over something a few rooms away, cursing somebody's mother.

'And he disapproves of my language,' Minkwee mentally noted.

She looked down at her plate. Empty. She looked back at Tessai. "Shall we depart?"

* * *

Being the beginning of the Golden Week, the streets at of Karakura Town were flocked with people and festive traditional decorations. Showa Day brought tourists and every possible hotel room was booked. Basically all the stores were busy with last minute purchases . . . except for the Urahara Shouten. Minkwee questioned why such a traditional styled shop would not be popular with the national holiday season. Then again that was third on her mind.

Second on her mind was how uncomfortable she felt. She was in an extra large grey sweatshirt, with an advertisement for the shop in faded green across the middle. She was swimming in a plethora of baggy material. She was still wearing Jinta's sweatpants. Being practically a foot taller than the boy, the sweats almost made it to her ankles. As if her awkward proportions of clothing where not enough she had her bangs tied back in a half ponytail. Being of two different lengths, her tail had random hairs lashing out far beyond the stubs of the others. At least she had her comfortable sneakers that were so ripped up that they were an offence to wear in public. The icing on the cake was getting to wear a pair of small rectangle sunglasses supplied by the designer of her attire: Tsukabishi Tessai. It wasn't even sunny out. It was still overcast and very grey and dismal.

'I just **had** to open my big mouth and ask for a disguise. At least no one will recognize me,' she though walking down the crowded streets. She and the giant man who shot above the crowd gained more looks then she would have pleased. 'Being discrete with this man is impossible.' She inwardly groaned and kept a sour face the entire walk to the shopping district. She looked over her shoulder to find her guide **very** close behind her, keeping an eagle-eyed watch on her.

First on her mind was getting as far away from the sketch ball as possible. He had a habit of sneaking up on her telling random obvious facts like, "We are crossing the street now," or "The streets are very crowded. This is expected," and her personal favorite was when he held her hand and hoisted her up another foot in the air, "Are you're legs getting tired? You're injured and I would like to be of assistance." He seemed like he was short a couple of brain cells.

Minkwee's response was a nervous sweat drop. "No thanks. Don't trouble yourself. I'm fine." He put her down. What Michaela really was thinking was:

'YEAH I'M GREAT! MY ARM SOCKET IS ABOUT TO FALL OFF AND I FEEL LIKE SHIT AS IT IS! GEE THANKS!' Her sarcastic inner self was pounding on her head trying to escape. She kept putting on a pout instead of the scowl that angrily tugged on her mouth. She mastered keeping it at bay, but the energy needed to keep it that way was lost and her features drooped, depressed.

She felt Tessai stare 50-pound weights into her back the entire time. It added to her discomfort and agitation but she maintained a controlled persona, not wanting to have a repeat of dinner last night.

The awkward teen stopped at a crosswalk waiting for the walking man to turn green. Suddenly she couldn't take it anymore.

"Hey Tessai, you know the way right? It seems I'm drawing a blank on how to get to the shopping district. Do you mind leading?" Minkwee very well knew how to get there.

"Go through here and it's just two blocks down. Follow the signs," he said behind her.

'Damn it.' She slouched more. The walking man turned green in the sign and a bustle of people crossed in a thick crowd. Tessai put a large tan hand on her shoulder, firmly gripping into the folds of the sweatshirt.

"Why do you insist on me leading?" She imagined that this could look like a hostage situation from the viewpoint of all the bystanders.

He paused until they reached the sidewalk. The silence bugged the impatient girl. Still he kept a hand on her shoulder.

"The boss wants me to keep an eye on you."

She rolled her eyes behind her glasses. "Well it's not like I'm going to get attacked or something. You could loosen up you know."

Tessai's heavy footsteps prodded behind her.

"The boss is not worried about you getting hurt."

That kind of hurt her a bit. She winced. 'I thought someone did care . . . oh who am I kidding.' She stared at her feet feeling abandoned once more.

"Do not get me wrong, Michaela-san,"

'Again! **He** can pronounce my name fine! It must be a weird default in the acumen brain of our "boss". Feh!'

"The boss does care for your safety, but doesn't feel you are being targeted."

"Then why do I have to be chaperoned?" She could see the giant mall up ahead now.

"Because the boss cares for your safety."

"Do explain," she answered confused.

Tessai heaved a sigh "He believes you are unpredictable."

"I'm not dangerous," she defended.

"Of course not, Michaela-san, but he believes you to be in a post-traumatic depression, leaving you unstable. It is my job to make sure you do not run away."

Michaela rolled her eyes. "Ugh whatever let's just get this over with."

"Why? You don't like shopping?

Her inner voice erupted in her eardrums. 'NO I JUST DON'T WANT TO BE AROUND YOU A MINUTE LONGER!' Minkwee faked a smile. "How'd you guess?"

* * *

The first store was simple. Get bathroom supplies. Tweezers, eyeliner, soap, razor, shampoo and all womanly necessities were acquired peacefully. Tessai obediently helped her and reached for all the things on the top shelves and fetched things she needed last minute. For once, she was grateful for the big lug for his patients. (Minkwee wasn't exactly decisive when it came to purchases.)

Next were shoes. A pair of black and red Addidas flip-flops and a new pair of black sneakers was an obvious pick up. For public she picked up some black converse with silver hearts. Minkwee made a mental fist pump for finding them on clearance.

Tessai held up a pair of red stiletto heels. Minkwee's eyes opened. 'Well, it's definitely not for him . . .' Minkwee gulped.

"Um, I'm all set Tessai. No thanks." She picked up her boxes and started to straggle for the counter.

"But what about formal occasion?" He inquired as we reached the desk.

"How often would we all be attending something formal?"

"Rarely, but nice to have in case," he explained

"Good day, did we find everything we were looking for?" said the cashier lady. Her smiley attitude made her look even younger with her high ponytail and chibi voice.

"Yes thank you," said the muscular giant as he put the sexy heels in with the rest of the plunders.

Minkwee bit her lip nervously. She couldn't walk very well in heels. Ok, she could hardly stand in them, but hopefully she'd never get the chance to use them. Her eyes nearly popped out when she saw the price come up on the machine.

"Absolutely no way! I'm sorry Mr. Tsukabishi, but I can't accept this!"

"Don't worry, Michaela-san. Money is not a problem. The boss wants you to be comfortable in your own clothing style. If you wish that will be you homecoming gift from the shop." He smiled to the cashier and walked off with her bags.

Minkwee followed not quite sure what to say.

With that aside she could focus on her clothes now.

First were socks. 'Blah. Boring.' She got some plain white and grey peds and a pair of tights.

Next Minkwee raided the clearances, trying to make up for her heels. There was actually a sick sale on jeans. Not to mention the easy access sweatpants, sweatshirts and variety of cute long sleeves. A few tang tops for bed and a pair of boy shorts. She seemed too happy with her findings.

She walked with her huge cart to the girls changing room with Tessai close behind.

The short plump well-aged lady helping put away and organize clothes stared as the oddly dressed Minkwee waltzed in with a mountain of clothes.

Minkwee heard the lady shriek.

"No no no! You must not come in! Have you no decency, young man!?" Minkwee turned terrified, as Tessai was standing unaffected by the old lady's coat-hanger attack.

"Michaela-san. Come with me please."

With an inward groan she followed Tessai to a corner with the lady grumbling something about a "Creepy perverted hooligan."

"What's wrong?" Minkwee asked skeptical, raising an eyebrow.

"We're going to disguise you as a male," he whispered.

"Uh why?"

"So we can both go into the same dressing room, of course!"

Minkwee dropped her cart with a clang. "WHAT THE HELL FOR?!"

"Shh," he hushed her trying to be secretive. "The boss told me to keep an eye on you."

"EVEN WHEN I'M CHANGING?!"

"Shh!"

"You're not watching me change."

"Shall we compromise at me waiting outside the door then?"

Minkwee rubbed her aching temples. 'I absolutely hate life right now.' "Fine whatever. What's your plan?"

Tessai took out the eyeliner they had just purchased. "Hold still."

"Hey! That's-!" Tessai speckled black dots about her chin creating a look similar to stubble before she could finish her sentence.

He took off a black old-fashioned hat off a nearby hat and hid her ponytail in the non-matching garment.

"Perfect," he said rubbing his hands together admiring the masterpiece he created.

Minkwee recapped her attire. 'I got an elderly man's hat on, fake stubble, rectangular sun-glasses indoors, too many sizes too short pants, ruined sneakers, and a sweatshirt I can fit a swimming pool in. Fabulous,' thought her inner sarcasm.

She looked down at her sweatshirt. 'Hmm. You can still see them, huh?' Her breasts made a lump in the fabric, indicating a female lies beneath the fabric.

She looked from Tessai, to her bodacious chest, to back to Tessai, and back to her chest. He got the drift.

"Here," he said picking up a large pile from her cart. "Try to hide them under this."

"Genius," Minkwee gaped in awe. 'Why didn't I think of this?' Holding a huge pile of clothes in front of her chest wasn't the most obvious decision but it worked.

As they strolled to the men's dressing room Tessai grabbed random boy shorts and polos as they went.

"What are you doing?" asked a confused Minkwee once again.

"I'm making it look convincing."

Minkwee rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses, thankful for once they were covering her eyes.

Minkwee's heartbeat pumped faster as she walked into the men's changing room. This was weird and prayed not to see a naked man or worse, them seeing her naked, blowing off the disguise.

They got in no problem. It smelled of cheap cologne and sweat. She nearly gagged.

She got into the first stall she saw and quickly and locked the door behind her. After she convinced herself it was secure, she tried on all her clothes, not really bothering to see if they looked good or not. She even tried on the men's clothes, which were rather comfy, actually.

She burst out of the door of her stall and the door rebounded off of a waiting Tessai and hitting Minkwee back in the face. She was on the ground clutching her swollen nose.

"Ung. _Fuck my life."_

"My apologies, Mamarou." She saw him wink and she got the hint of her new alias. "What was that about your life?" He helped her up.

"Nothing. Let's go," she snapped

"Find everything ok?" he asked concerned.

"YES!" Her shrill disturbed incoming teenage boys walking in. She blushed and stormed out with her clothes. Tessai followed.

"Silly Mamarou," commented Tessai not so cleverly.

* * *

She licked at her vanilla soft serve that Tessai hat bought for her and Tessai enjoyed his large mint chocolate chip cone. The two sat on their bench in an angry silence. Tessai broke it first.

"You're not still mad are you? I did apologize," he said.

"It's fine. I just get a little testy when I'm frustrated."

"So I've noticed."

"Hey!" She flicked a piece of her ice cream at the tall man beside her. It splattered in white droplets all over his nose.

Minkwee couldn't help but to giggle.

"You think that's funny, do you? Well how about this?" I flicked a chocolate chip and hit her square in the forehead.

"Ow!" Minkwee tried to put on a scowl. Tessai was grinning triumphantly. She couldn't help it. She felt her lips beginning to twitch. Finally she burst out laughing her obnoxious laugh. Tessai broke out in a deep hearty "Hah hah hah" and at last Minkwee felt comfortable, in her elderly hat, false stubble, oversized sweatshirt, rectangle glasses, short pants that made it almost to her ankles, and hideous sneakers.

* * *

After a disturbing visit to the men's room where she changed into suitable attire and washed off her stubble, she looked at her plain blue flare jeans that accented every curve of her size 3 legs in the mirror. A blue long sleeve shirt with two penguins hugging on it tugged at her bust. Her mother had told her that her bust and booty was the only compliment to her body. 'I guess I could agree with that,' She thought. Her converse didn't really match but it was better then any other option. Then she quickly darted out with Tessai, not wanting to be seen in the men's room. She felt stares on her as she exited, even though hardly anyone was around. She felt like she broke some sort of law. Anyway she wanted to get done with this shopping thing.

The next store was her favorite gothic/ punk store. She got two new Tripp shorts as well as a red Lolita dress to go with her heels. Tessai seemed rather unpleased with the heavy metal screaming coming from the speakers but it was music to Minkwee's ears.

* * *

They exited, both happy. One for her purchase, the other for leaving.

"So is that all we have to do today?" Tessai was carrying all of the bags all day, so Minkwee assumed he was tired.

"Just one more store," she promised.

* * *

As they approached the final destination Minkwee heard Tessai gulp as he came to a dead halt.

"You can wait outside you know," she reminded him.

He masked his temporary fear and pushed his glasses up closer to his face. "That is unnecessary.

The Victoria Secret Japanese collection was going to be the most awkward store yet. But she needed underwear and Tessai's money.

After a long debate over black or tan Minkwee finally chose tan and then the cart full of womanly undergarments was full of cute underwear and a sports bra and a two others.

Minkwee's face was rosy the entire time, trying to ignore Tessai as much as possible. Tessai was even worse. She could see him begin to sweat as they waited in line to pay.

After they paid Tessai picked the girl up, along with all her shopping bags, slung her over his shoulders, and began sprinting for the exit.

"You're done right?" he yelled up to her.

Minkwee gurgled some affirmative answer. She felt rather motion sick with the unstable ride over six feet in the air.

* * *

Tessai sprinted like that all the way back to the Urahara Shouten.

He put Minkwee down where she collapsed right where she stood, dizzy and sick beyond all belief. She passed out.

* * *

She awoke in her room. She saw the sun setting. 'Damn! I must have been out for a few hours!' She sat up and realized there was no pain in her ribs anymore and the swelling in her head had stopped.

'This place really is magical,' she thought with a starry gaze out the window. She got up and checked in her drawers. All her clothes had been put away for her. 'I can't believe how nice these people are. What they do for me. I must thank them at dinner!' She started for the stairs and smelt something cooking. 'At least I know I'm not late for the meal.' She was starving and she held her stomach as it grumbled all the way downstairs.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I hope I got Tessai's character right. He's not stupid just Minkwe thought he was.

Anyway I hope you R&R like a good boy or girl :D


	10. Perpetual Childhood

Authors Note: I didn't want to make Minkwea sound fat in the last chapter because she's not so here's my explanation. True she's buxom and has a bit of a booty but she's not a pornstar or chub. She is medium boned and doesn't have the goddess attraction that Youruichi does. True she likes Tessai's food based on the fact she hadn't had a decent meal in a long time. True she's lazy but with a strong soccer background (I don't believe I mentioned) She's quite strong. Envision her based on this. Her character is very real to me so I hope you understand her more.

Thanks for the reviews and favorites! Keep em up!

Warnings: Swearing. Mild violence and an inopropriate comment by Jinta. Oh and yes you will be tempted to say to yourself "That's what she said." But please don't. The two main characters of this chapter are not romantically involved or ever will be. This form of petophilia is not in this fanfic.

Disclaimer:

Kira Izuru: Minkwea5000 doesn't own Bleach or it's characters but we all love her anyway *hugs author*

Minkwea5000: Uh . . . *pets head* What are you doing here, Kira?

L (from Death Note): KIRA!!!!!

Minkwea5000 and Kira: NOOOO! *run andhide under a box*

Kira: *whispering* She does own Minkwea though. Shhhh! Don't steal her!

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She clumsily pushed herself into the dining area where everyone had already started eating. Everyone took notice of the girl in the doorway.

She bowed low and trembling from her nerves. "Ex-excuse my late arrival. I also thank you f-for everything you all have done for me."

She saw happy smiles all around the table except for one.

At the first site of the teen, Jinta pounced across the traditional style table flinging scraps of food into the manager's face, speckling his odd hat with culinary delights. He pointed an accusing finger at the confused girl.

"Those were MY friggin pants you used! Ururu told me you wore them all day! THATS DISGUSTING." Jinta began jostling the startled Minkwee's shirt, shaking her violently.

"Wah!" Minkwee held up her hands in defense. "I'm sorry! P-please st-stop!" She felt nausea coming to rear its ugly head, and then the shaking finally stopped. Tessai had picked the red head up by his ear and was in the process of practically removing it from his head.

Urahara had resumed eating, not looking at the scene before him, ashamed, perhaps. Ururu dejected her gaze and frightfully picked up her chopsticks to resume the meal.

"Let me go, you, you . . . why you . . ." It seemed Jinta had a fearful respect for someone after all. Tessai carried the boy upstairs. Minkwee heard the sound of his squealing until she heard a door slam.

"NO SUPPER FOR YOU!"

"What did I do?" she heard him whine.

"Think about it," was Tessai's reply. Then he came trudging back downstairs to seat his guess and sat on his rightful pillow.

Minkwee stared at the empty seat across from her. A plate half-eaten and ghost of a tempered boy vexed her and told her that it was her fault he was not adorning his rightful place. 'After all,' she thought, 'It was my fault . . . it usually is.'

She could hardly eat and half listened to the dinner conversation going on. All she could recall was Urahara complaining about how his sponsors didn't see his "vision" for his shop and how apparently the pitch did not go as planned. She sighed. 'We must all be having a bad day.'

* * *

Minkwee sat in her room reorganizing her shit. She felt the need to hit something. She failed again at keeping peace in this shop. She took the sweatpants and marched to the room in which held the owner they belonged to.

She knocked on the door with a paper sign saying, "Stay out" in bold red lettering. She gulped.

"Go away!" came the cry of the boy inside.

'He sounds like he's . . . crying.' Sure enough, Minkwee heard soft sobs from the other side of the doorway.

"Jinta," Minkwee paused, careful of her wording. "It's Michaela. I have your sweatpants."

"Didn't you hear me, Lazy Ass?! GO AWAY!"

Minkwee took a deep breath and slid the door open. Inside she found the largest quantity of baseball paraphernalia she had ever seen! Old bobble-heads, posters of athletes she's only seen in magazines upon a baby blue wall, and a wood floor littered with trading cards. His small bed was blue with a Japanese baseball team blanket with three matching pillows.

Minkwee focused in on the poor boy laying into one of his pillows.

"Get out!" he screamed and suddenly through the pillow he was burring his face in. Minkwee dodged it by leaning left as the pillow slid out into the hallway. She looked at the distraught disfigurement of the boy. His ear was red in agitation

'What torture did this boy face?' Minkwee took two steps forward.

Jinta turned his face back into another pillow. "Don't look at me," he sobbed with a cracking voice.

"What's wrong, Jinta?" she stared down at the foot of the bed, unknowing of how she could help but she new she must.

Jinta turned his head to look at the intruder. Minkwee's heart took a step back as his beady dark eyes were stained with painful tears. She knew those tears. No one should have experienced them

"What do you care? As long as there's a young woman around, dumb, old Urahara sees no use in us kids. We're dispenceful. You get treated like a princess and we're treated like dogs. DOGS! You hear?" He clenched his pillow tighter and hurled it at the older girl.

She caught it and threw it back onto the bed and sat on it. She placed his pants gently on the floor.

"That can't be true." Jinta leaned away from the sinking in the bed Minkwee was causing. "For one thing," Minkwee said, "I'm working just like the rest of you. And I know it's not fair but I'm kind of like your little sister. I can't help what I don't know or don't have. It's like I'm a baby. And from what I can tell you're the youngest right? So it's going to be a change having the responsibility of an underling."

"You're . . . you're calling me . . . your superior?" he asked in total shock.

Minkwee nodded with a slight smile to her features.

Jinta crossed his legs and wiped the tears away roughly and snorted his snots in. "Feh. I guess you can't help being new, but I'm never treated right around here. I do all the dirty work and I get this," he pointed to his red ear, "for something you did!"

Minkwee looked down. "I'm sorry." She couldn't say much else. She didn't know how to prove it either.

"Damn right you are!"

She snapped her head, fuming at his ignorant arrogance. She remembered her purpose though, and it was not to scold him.

"Try to control your temper a bit and try to understand other people. Urahara and Tessai are hard working people despite the way they look and act." Minkwee was pretty sure what she was saying is true. "Otherwise I would be dead and none of you would have this cute little home and a shop to take care of if it wasn't for their dedication to run this place and take care of people in need." She eyed him with her eyes that were surprisingly not covered by her bangs.

He shrugged. "I guess so. But they never let me do anything fun! I've wanted all my life to play baseball. But I can't . . . because I'm dangerous . . . like them . . ." Minkwee understood what he meant by "Them." She didn't need to see to understand that Urahara and his employees had great power. She couldn't explain it, but she could almost feel it. She stared at the boy, listening with all of her being. "We can't be like you normal people. We can't play sports or go to school or grow up like normal kids do." He hugged his knees to his chest.

'A perpetual state of childhood . . .'

Minkwee hatched an idea. "I know I can't help being quote: 'normal', nor you being special, but tell you what. "I used to pitch for my softball team. How about we go play in the park some day?"

"Can't," he sniffled, "The people will see us." He sunk his head lower.

"Then how about on rainy days? I'm sure Tessai can put up a barrier for a roof. And nobody would be outside on a rainy day."

"What if they are?"

"Then we play catch." Minkwee smiled, trying to force some cheer into the boy.

"Do you mean that, Michaela-san?!" He jumped up excitedly.

"Of course. We just have to be really nice to the manager and Tessai though."

Jinta stood in his boyish form and folded his arms. "You sure you can handle my strength?" he smiled cockily.

She turned up her nose. "I can hold my own, thank you very much." She gave him the peace sign. "Don't worry about it, kid."

Jinta shrugged, looking at the walls in solemn thought.

"What is it, Jinta?"

He sat back down next to her. Minkwee's eyes widened as he wrapped his arms around her in his hug as he leaned into her shoulder. "I've never had a mother." She felt wet tears trickle through her shirt.

Minkwee felt both flattered and worried. She didn't desire to be a mother quite yet, and somewhat concerned about his thoughts on her. She didn't feel that old. She certainly hoped she didn't look it. She shook her head

"I don't know about mother, but I'm hear for you, should you need it. We both have scars. Those who have trialed must stick together, neh?" She chuckled.

"Thank you, ne-san."

Minkwee hugged her little friend back. She heard a rustle outside the door and turned to the doorway. She saw the edge of a dark green haori flutter away from sight, like it could have been a ghost. Minkwee wasn't even sure she saw it, but Urahara was watching closely . . . always. She would speak to him and Tessai about treatment for the children. She hugged Jinta tighter in the quiet of the boyish room.

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Well . . . you will have to wait some for the next chapter. School and soccer is starting soon and I have to take some time for that too aside from my regular life and this fanfiction. I promise I'll update as SOON as I can! I love this fanfiction very much.

R&R still!


	11. Change

Sorry bout the late update, everyone. School, soccer, chorus, blah life!

Anyway hope you enjoy!

Warnings: I think it's clean. Usual bit of angst.

Disclaimer:

Ururu- Minkwea5000 is not Tite Kubo.

Tite Kubo- BOW DOWN TO ME

All- *Bows down*

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Days past and Minkwee couldn't find the courage to talk to her superiors. Not like she had much time. Urahara made her run around like a mad women all the time. She thought it was to keep her mind focused on work instead of other things. Still she found herself waking from nightmares. She would wake up and have to forgive again. To train her mind to release the past and focus on the present was a nightly trial. Waking every morning to either exaustion or a cheery disposition, based on her resolve.

Golden Week passed. The shop wasn't big on the celebrations and kept, for the most part, to their own work. For this, Minkwee was glad. She couldn't keep up with merrymaking as well as the tasks she needed to complete daily **and** her boss's frequent bothers.

Finding that she had held it off long enough, she finished sweeping the storage room and left to find, hopefully, Mr. Urahara to discuss taking care of the children in whatever way she could offer. Tessai, as chumly as he and Minkwee now were, was still a strict worker.

Minkwee found Urahara in the front room doing the most curious of things. As she opened the door she saw him heckling to air as if there was a person there. She squeezed her eyes in disbelief. She just stood there gaping as the idiotic man was talking to himself about gigai repair. He paused.

"What's that?" he asked and turned towards the perturbed girl. "Ho ho! Minkwee-san! After I take care of this customer I'll be right with you.

"Um sir, there's nobody-" Then a large hand covered her mouth and dragged her back towards the dining room as she cried muffled screams all the way there, seeing the queer manager disappear behind the abrupt shut of the door.

"Well then, where were we?" She heard him ask the air as her muffled screams left area.

She tried to pull herself away from the hairy arms, which she knew were Tessai's. Finally he let her go.

"What was that for!?" she punched his arm.

He showed of effect. "It's best you don't disturb Mr. Urahara when he's dealing with a soul as a customer. They might be suspicious of you and turn us in to Soul Society's authorities. Thankfully it was just Kurosaki Rukia."

"So that's why I didn't see anyone," she said to herself. Then the thought struck her. . .'Wait. Kurosaki Rukia?! The famous captain that helped save Soul Society and this world?!' She turned quickly to see if she could try to get a glimpse of what she couldn't see before.

"Yes." Tessai grabbed Minkwee by the hands before she moved two feet. "Now while The Boss is busy I'm going to take care of the matter of your disguise."

Minkwee's visible eye opened widely and refused to follow. 'That can't be good.' She had little choice as she was dragged to the bathroom where Tessai pulled out scissors.

"AH! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO TO ME?!" she screamed.

"Hush! We have a customer in the other room!" He held the scissors and snipped them menacingly.

"Just tell me," she whispered nervously.

"It's just a haircut, goodness, child."

Minkwee let out a sigh of relief, ignoring the 'child' comment. "You know how to do this right?"

"Don't doubt your comrades, Michaela-san." He dunked her head in the sink and wet her hair, nearly drowning her. She was dragged back up. After gasping for air she responded,

"Please, call me Minkwee. My friends from America called me that all the time. I guess it's an attachment to the name."

Tessai wrapped a store towel around her neck. Then he began to snip some of her bangs, "Very well. . ." he snorted. "Minkwee-san."

His face contorted into a bear like grin. Minkwee didn't return the grin but she smiled inside her mind. 'The old Michaela is dead,' she thought. 'Minkwee will be the new girl this shop comes to know. I pray they never meet Michaela ever again.'

The pondering young women began to remember what it was she wanted to bring up with Tessai.

"Tessai, could we talk about something?"

"What of, Minkwee-san?" he asked, still at work with her hair.

"I know it's a bit sudden to ask for a promotion, and I don't mean to offend your position, but I would like to be involved with the discipline of Jinta and Ururu."

Tessai's jaw dropped and dropped his scissors. "Wh-what? Why?" he asked astounded.

Minkwee lowered her head. "I understand why you might be upset, but-"

"No no, it's not like that," he said waving his arms in a no signal. "I'm just surprised that such a grumpy teenager would want another trivial chore on her shoulders."

She mocked a frown but returned to her proposition. "I talked to Jinta about it." Minkwee looked down at the towel around her neck and played with the fringes in thought. "He needs a less physical approach I think."

Tessai pushed his glasses further up on his face. "Regardless of how he looks and acts, Jinta is no child. I don't know how much the boss has told you but we're different from other people when we age. We must become stronger in order to do the kind of work we do."

"I know that. Thus, he shouldn't be punished like a bad boy and be reasoned with like a mature young man. Still that doesn't mean he ever got to be a boy though. I know things are rough and tough here and people want to become stronger, but I can't watch him become something like . . . like,"

Minkwee paused remembering her place.

Tessai picked up his scissors as if nothing happened. "Like you," he finished.

"I'm sorry." Minkwee bent her head down as he cut some hair in the back. The shadows over her face couldn't hide the sparkling tears that formed.

Tessai continued his work and blow-dried her hair to perfection.

"Minkwee, you've changed a lot in the past weeks days." He turned her to face the mirror. She looked up and gasped. Her bangs were gone and she had a clean, strait bob style. Her stained round red cheeks that made her look like a child seemed more mature and almost royal. Her short features were complimented. Minkwee smiled still with sad tears in her eyes, but felt great about her new appearance. Certainly no one would recognize her. She turned and bowed to her hairdresser.

"Thank you."

"If you are serious about helping out with the young ones then very well. I'll see how you handle it. Remember I'll lend a helping fist if the boy goes to far."

Minkwee groaned inside. "I don't think **you** need to go that far. Thank you for your help though."

With an amused look on his very Italian looking face, the muscular man walked out of the bathroom, leaving Minkwee to play with her new hair. Her new life was ahead of her now. She knew she could do this. She needed to.

She cleaned up all stray hairs on the floor and set out to do her daily chores with, as usual, with mixed feelings.

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So another short one.

I'm trying to get Minkwee to step away from the angst but it's hard to find a realistic way to do so.

Next chapter will bring out the crazy!

Do review!

Any suggestions or concerns? Criticism? I love it all!

Next chapter will be longer so please hold up a little while more :[


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